


At The Meridian

by CourierNinetyTwo



Series: Over The Waters [1]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2014-03-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 00:17:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 35,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/668114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CourierNinetyTwo/pseuds/CourierNinetyTwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the century after Benezia left Aethyta, Shiala's faith never wavered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[2076 CE]

Shiala hadn’t realized it was their last argument until it was too late.

Preparations for dinner were running behind, disrupting everyone’s routine. Sitting with her legs crossed on a cushion, she had listened to the priestesses’ gossip for twenty minutes amidst the bubbling and clatter of the kitchen before realizing the head of the table was still empty. Aethyta skipped a meal on occasion to have a quiet drink instead, but Benezia was always punctual, even in her own household. 

A chorus of, “Shiala, don’t get up, it’s almost ready–” followed her out through the living room. She was halfway up the stairs when the door at the far hall opened, revealing Benezia hastily donning a necklace. Aethyta stood behind her like a shadow, wearing a dark dress Shiala had never seen her in before. Nine decades in this house led to noticing fine details she would have dismissed in her military years. Here, life could be broken down to the smallest elements, hints of inconsistency.

“ _Auma._ ” It was announcing her presence as much as a greeting. 

Shiala saw the tension bleed from Aethyta’s shoulders at the honorific, arms relaxing by her sides. Benezia kept her careful stride as she closed the clasp of the necklace, letting a sculpted band of Armali silver hang just below her collarbones. Her stomach was just swollen enough to break the lines of a golden yellow blouse, but it would be another year before the newly titled matriarch saw the birth of her first daughter. Shiala tried to dismiss the thought of complications; enough doctors had been in and out of the house of late.

“I’m very sorry for the delay.” Benezia said. “I assume the table’s already set.”

“Yes, but the food’s still a few minutes behind.” Shiala frowned. Aethyta still hadn’t moved an inch from the doorway. “Hessa hasn’t quite adjusted to the schedule yet.”

“She’s young.” Benezia’s smile was subdued, but genuine. “University life left her accustomed to sharing space with one or two other maidens. A commando unit and a dozen other acolytes living in close quarters must be overwhelming.”

Shiala nodded sharply. Hessa was terribly young, but the letter she had sent to Benezia upon graduating had apparently been enough to receive an invitation. _Atamna_ were in and out of the house every year; some wanted a recommendation to well-known temples, others romanticized life serving a powerful matriarch, and others were driven by Benezia’s message. It was the latter that stayed decade after decade, finding their own way through her words. The commandos living on the estate were here for different reasons, but Shiala trusted all of them with her life. More importantly, she trusted them with Benezia’s.

She began descending the stairs and Shiala was quick to follow, keeping lock-step with the matriarch. The rhythm of each step had shifted since the pregnancy, Benezia’s fingers brushing against the guardrail to ensure her balance didn’t falter. Noise carried up from the dining room, a clatter of voices and dishes that grew louder until Benezia crossed the threshold. 

Farizah, observant as always, cleared her throat to silence the room. Shiala noted a faint flush of exertion behind the priestess’ prominent violet markings; whether or not it was her role, Shiala could be sure the matron had waded into the chaos of the kitchen to make up for lost time.

There was a faint flicker of anxiety through the _atamna_ before Benezia moved to take her usual seat at the head of the table. Aethyta’s place was to her left, Shiala diagonally to her right. She could tell they had been waiting for some announcement to explain Benezia’s absence, but the matriarch resuming the routine without a word seemed to have put a halt to the questioning looks. At least, for now. Shiala had fielded plenty of complaints from her fellow soldiers about the acolytes’ propensity for gossip, as if they didn’t have their own rumor mill on patrol. 

Benezia broke the silence with a broad smile. “Aethyta will be down in a moment. She said she doesn’t mind if we start without her, as long as there’s enough wine left for the evening.”

There were a few hums of knowing amusement before the evening banter returned in full force. Shiala heard a debate about Ulee’s capital temple on one side and a discussion on the finer points of Siano’s treatise for democracy on the opposite end resume, all standard fodder in a house of philosophy. She saw Benezia’s gaze linger on the arch leading to the stairway for just a moment longer, only to be interrupted by dinner carried in on a slow caravan of trays.

The bitter smell of _ifera_ wrinkled Shiala’s nose as a steaming bowl of soup was placed in front of her. It was traditional with spring approaching, but too many ration kits packed with dry algae bricks during her years in the service had left some habitual recoil to the stuff. The chef Benezia kept on staff could work wonders with anything, though, and the large mussels soaking in a bed of the thin green strands and spiced broth were making her mouth water.

“Wine, Shiala?” Farizah asked from her right.

“Is it Janiris?” She replied with a small smile. “Water, please.”

Shiala took the ice-cold jug passed to her with a soft thank you, filling her glass close to the brim. Her eyes flickered to Benezia and the empty cup by the matriarch’s bowl.

“Are you drinking water or _calos_ tonight?” 

The latter was a blended fruit juice and one of Benezia’s favorites – especially now that alcohol was out of the question – but Shiala didn’t receive an answer until she quietly said the matriarch’s name. 

That got the attention expected when Benezia blinked and looked her way. Shiala held protocol as her first and last standard, almost without exception. Addressing the older asari directly without a title had been a calculated choice.

“I apologize, Shiala.” Benezia said, fatigue weighing down the words. “I seem to have a lot on my mind tonight. Water is just fine.”

“Of course, _auma_.”

She filled Benezia’s cup and set the jug in front their bowls, careful not to disturb the plate of freshly sliced melon that had just been set. No one else at the table had noticed the lapse between them, not amidst the idle talk and clatter of utensils.

They were halfway through the meal when Aethyta walked in, wearing the same dress Shiala had seen upstairs. A few approving comments echoed from around the table, answered by the matriarch’s characteristic grin. She sat down next to Benezia like things were the same as always, but Shiala saw a hint of hesitation before Aethyta’s hand rested against her bondmate’s stomach.

“Everything doing alright in there?” She asked.

Benezia’s hand moved to cover Aethyta’s. “She’s fine.”

“Then why is my glass still empty?” Aethyta looked down the length of the table, smile mostly intact. “You girls didn’t get through all the wine already, did you?”

The jug was quickly passed over, with more than enough to spare. Shiala returned to her soup, focusing to tune out the conversation that was soon to follow. Benezia scarcely had any privacy, between thirty people in and out of the house, not to mention the aggressions of the media and various guests throughout the year. It was a small thing, but at least Shiala knew Benezia could share a meal with Aethyta and avoid anyone eavesdropping.

\---

Two centuries of getting up with the sun had never made it any easier. Shiala stepped into a stretch in front of the window by her bed, guided by the light filtering though the privacy glass. This was one of the only hours when the house was quiet. Nika and Jinan were on patrol somewhere around the estate, but it was a poor commando whose footsteps carried through a courtyard.

Once her shoulders were warmed up, Shiala dropped to the floor with one arm behind her back. The rhythm of the push-ups was easy to fall into; after fifty, she switched sides, keeping her eyes centered on the window and the high wall in the distance. The house was built for peace instead of war, but Benezia drew her share of detractors. Some of them had made it necessary to keep a kinetic barrier installed under every pane of glass.

Shiala finished the last repetition and kipped up to standing. Blood flowed warmly through her limbs, chasing the last vestiges of fatigue away. Her leathers were already laid out, but she needed a shower first.

After a surreptitious check to make sure the rest of the house was still asleep, she slipped into the stall in her bathroom and turned on the water. The shower was large enough for two people, if not three, but her quarters had been a guest room first. Shiala would have been content to sleep downstairs with the rest of the unit, but she had relented at Benezia’s request. 

Rank was so malleable here, a hybrid between civilian and militia. She was a security specialist by asari law, a commando in practice and superior to the unit as a whole, even though her captain’s stripes had been retired after leaving the Thessian service. Sometimes it complicated things.

Footsteps outside the bathroom made her go still beneath the cold spray. Shiala turned off the water and waited five seconds. Whoever it was had stopped moving too.

“Lady Benezia?” She asked aloud.

“It wasn’t my intention to interrupt your shower, Shiala.” The matriarch’s voice was muted by the door, distorting tone. “When you’re finished, I need to speak to you.”

Shiala frowned. She structured her schedule so she would be in top form before the matriarch woke up. The number of times Benezia had been awake before her in the last ninety years could be counted on half a hand. 

“I’ll be out in a moment, _auma_.” 

She stepped off the slick tile and grabbed a towel, drying off as quickly as she could. There was a faint creak from outside the bathroom; by her guess, Benezia sitting down onto the bed. Her leathers were still folded over the footboard, well out of reach. 

Shiala hung the towel back up and walked into the bedroom, making a beeline for her closet. A glance towards the bed revealed that Benezia was still in her nightclothes, a pale blue robe that could still close over the swell of her stomach. She grabbed a pair of underwear out of one of the drawers – standard black – and donned them quickly. The compressive fabric of the bra made haste a little more difficult when she pulled it on over her head, but it was the only support she had besides the leathers themselves.

“You still have the scars.” Benezia said quietly.

Shiala’s hand instinctively went to the small of her back. The difference in texture was subtle; twenty years hadn’t smoothed out the dozen or so razor-thin lines courtesy of a floor of broken glass. There were more on her feet, from when she had run through the remains of Benezia’s shattered skylight to waylay an assassin in the middle of the night. Thessia plunged into almost impenetrable darkness after sundown, and without the light of a moon to guide her steps, wrestling the mercenary into submission had been a painful exercise.

“They’re barely large enough to be called scars.” Shiala replied, turning on her heel and striding past Benezia to retrieve her uniform. “Besides, every soldier needs a few nicks in their hide.”

The small hum of amusement she was expecting didn’t come. Resisting the urge to look over her shoulder, Shiala unzipped the leathers and stepped into each leg. The rest was simple after that, the tight sheath of each sleeve, the clasp at her neck. Her gloves and boots waited by the door, the latter recently polished. She decided the rest could wait. If Benezia wanted her armed and ready to move, she imagined the matriarch would have said so.

“Sura should be informed that Aethyta won’t need her services as of this morning.”

Shiala slowly turned in the direction of the bed. Benezia had been chasing sleep with varying degrees of success since the pregnancy, but exhaustion had set itself deep into the matriarch’s expression. Both hands were laced low over her stomach, as if she could grip nothing else for support.

“Is she-” Shiala cleared her throat. “Pardon me, _auma_. Did Sura do something to upset Aethyta?”

“No, of course not.” Benezia said, eyes shifting to look out the window. “But our bond has been broken, and it wouldn’t be appropriate to keep her under guard.”

Her wrists were bare. It wasn’t somewhere Shiala often looked; Benezia only wore the bracelet Aethyta had given her to bed. Their relationship was never up for public spectacle, even with a daughter on the way. When _pureblood_ became a word used to derail careers, Benezia had spent centuries walking a careful line. 

“Broken?” Shiala asked. In nearly a hundred years, she’d seen Benezia and Aethyta have their share of arguments. The house could be bearing the tension for days – even weeks – but they had always reconciled.

“The estate is in both our names,” Benezia continued, as if Shiala hadn’t spoken at all, “We agreed it would be sold and the credit split evenly between us.”

The matriarch turned just enough to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry to place this burden on you, Shiala. I know how much you’ve done to make this house safe.”

“It’s no burden.” The lie came easier to Shiala’s lips than she had ever imagined. “Your will is done, as always. I’ll speak to Sura.”

Benezia’s fractured smile brought little comfort.


	2. Chapter 2

**[2077 CE]**

The new estate was smaller.

It wasn’t obvious from the outside, not with winding stone paths leading through a healthy garden to the thick exterior walls, with floor-to-ceiling glass taking up most of one side of the house, but Shiala was used to marking off patrols on a grid. Two missing rooms – Aethyta’s private bar and armory – had been enough to change the entire layout of the estate. Different windows and walls, Armali guild-branded glass and Usaru paneling reduced to points of access on her omnitool. 

Benezia and the _atamna_ were staying in a hotel for a night while Shiala set up the new security system and briefed the squad through an open comm. line. If she couldn’t be with the matriarch, the rest of them damn well would be. Her feet didn’t offer more than a whisper of sound across the floor, and only when she moved from the stone floor of the kitchen to the polished wood in the lounge. 

“The movers will be here in the morning to deliver the furniture.” She said into her omnitool, turning sharply to start ascending the stairs. The rise was slightly shorter than the steps she was used to, but they would be easier on Benezia when the final months of pregnancy became a strain. “I’ve already set surveillance on the porch, the main gate, and the garage. They’ll be scanned on the way in.”

“Any hiccups?” Nika asked.

“No.” Shiala stopped at the threshold of her new room, turning just enough to measure the distance from there to Benezia’s door. The meditation room had been shifted upstairs by architectural necessity, but even having that entrance in between didn’t lengthen the hall by much. She could still make it in a handful of seconds. “Not beyond the garden needing a helping hand.”

Nika’s laugh carried over the line. “The priestesses will be happy to handle that. There wasn’t much they could do at the old place, with all the fountains and sculptures.” 

There was a pause, followed by a smattering of conversation Shiala couldn’t hear. When the commando’s voice returned to the call, it was only to say, “Of course, ma’am, but I’m afraid I can’t give you much privacy with this on my arm.”

Benezia’s voice was somewhat muted, held at a distance. “Don’t apologize, Nika. I only need to speak to her for a moment.” 

“Yes, _auma_?” Shiala replied, starting to descend the steps again.

“Where are you staying for the night, Shiala? Nika told me you weren’t coming back.”

“Here.”

“Without a bed?” The matriarch asked, concern only faintly muted by the connection. “There’s another hotel less than ten minutes’ drive from the estate.”

“I need to make sure the surveillance runs uninterrupted.” Shiala’s heel scraped the last step, making her frown. Proof she was distracted, when it was hard to be light on her feet. “I’ll sleep when things are settled.”

A moment of silence passed over the line. “All right. We’ll be driving over after dawn to start putting things back in order.”

“Of course.” Shiala said. “Rest well, _auma_.”

“May Kurinth grant you peace.”

Hearing the old war goddess’ name made Shiala smile before the call terminated. She had been enamored of the stories as a child, of heroes and queens shaping the landscape of Thessia by will and blessing alike.

As the omnitool faded back into her wrist, Shiala walked to the enormous window that overlooked the fledgling garden. Only decades of night drills had left her able to see at all in the pitch black beyond the lights of the front gate, even if it was just layers of shadows over shapes. The grounds were quieter than those of the previous house, where birds took to the thick bushes and traded strange whistles back and forth. She was alone.

Lowering herself to the floor in one languid motion, Shiala crossed her legs until the top of each ankle was pressed firmly against the opposite calf. She felt a faint stretch in her thighs, proof that exercise had always come easier to her than the stillness of meditation. Linking her hands together, Shiala let out a slow, deep breath from the pit of her stomach.

Her eyes traveled past the glass of the window, locking onto the shadow of a desiccated branch. Meditating was common in almost every asari faith, but it hadn’t been until Benezia that she had seen the merit of it. The matriarch had asked her to join the atamna in sitting on several occasions, all of them politely deflected, until Benezia’s patient smile encouraged her to try.

Shiala knew she always brimmed with energy; spending most of her captain years in the Thessian military behind a desk was why she had leapt at the opportunity to become a commando in the first place. The New Alara Irregulars had been a sturdy crew, dedicated to destroying raider camps, protecting politicians and executives offworld, and when the situation called for it, hostage retrieval. The latter had always been satisfying and the training was top-notch, but after a hundred years, the same sense of monotony had set in. As a soldier, she prized routine, but the feeling that all her effort was essentially accomplishing nothing had cut deep.

Until she met Benezia.

Shiala’s lips curved into a small smile. Meditating was supposed to be beyond thought, not muddling through old memories. She could practically feel the matriarch’s hand on her shoulder; hear the reminder that her face was tense with distraction.

After closing her eyes, she let out a deep breath. Even the air tasted different here.

\---

Moving an entire estate’s possessions in a day was an ordeal, even with an entire crew running skyhaulers back and forth. Shiala had ordered the commandos to fit all their gear in a single bag so only one trip was necessary; they had obliged within an hour. Without Aethyta sharing armory space, Benezia asked that their weapons were kept to quarters, which had been simple enough with a few omni-locked trunks. Balancing security and the matriarch’s image of peaceful diplomacy was a careful dance, but Shiala had become accustomed to the steps.

With the unit tasked to learn the grounds – and keep an eye on the haulers every time they returned from the old estate – she had been escorting Benezia around the house for most of the morning, letting the matriarch direct the furniture placement. Acolytes flitted from room to room in their wake, putting away what small items they could.

“Is there enough space in your new room?” Benezia asked as she slowly ascended the stairs.

Shiala kept a hand near the small of Benezia’s back, close but never touching. She didn’t want the matriarch to feel like an invalid, but the older asari had been prone to distraction the last few days.

“I’ve served on ships where I had to sleep in the footlocker my gear was in, auma.” She said. “On the contrary, I might have too much space.”

Benezia glanced through the open doorway to Shiala’s quarters, which were still bare. “I’m becoming accustomed to that feeling.”

There was no change in expression, but the subtle strain in the matriarch’s voice was telling on its own. Shiala knew whatever she heard was a fraction of whatever Benezia was feeling; whether it was nature or simply a long career involving politics, the matriarch instinctively subdued her emotions in public. With an _atanma _around every corner and the movers constantly checking in, privacy was impossible.__

__Unsure of how to answer, Shiala let her palm settle against the arch of Benezia’s back. The matriarch’s head tilted down as she drew in a slow breath, one hand cupping the swell of her stomach._ _

__“She just kicked.” Benezia said softly. Beyond the weariness, there was a note of surprise._ _

__Shiala frowned. “Has she ever–”_ _

__Benezia shook her head. “No.”_ _

__Mentally adding a season, she replied, “A winter child, then.”_ _

__It was surprising to see the matriarch’s broad smile. “I still forget you were raised with those stories.”_ _

__“My mother is still a farmer’s daughter.” Shiala let herself return the smile. “And my father always encouraged her.”_ _

__“Have you spoken with her recently?”_ _

__Shiala shrugged. “Not since her birthday. She’s taken to traveling, studying designs on other asari worlds.”_ _

__“Inaya has always honored your service here, Shiala.” Benezia said. “You should call.”_ _

__The request caught Shiala off-guard. She almost never spoke of her family, especially since her father Terach had passed just a decade after she joined the military. He was elcor, which was unusual enough, but he had also been an esteemed officer in an armored cavalry unit – the so-called ‘living tanks’ – and had taught her an abiding respect for soldiers. His conversion to siari and distinguished record had earned him the rare privilege of a visa to the asari homeworld, where he had met her mother in a temple._ _

__In contrast, her mother had been raised in a hunting and agriculture collective, one of the oldest on Thessia. She served as a member of the local militia as a maiden until a trip selling the season’s crops had brought her to New Alara. Enamored with the skyscrapers and temples, Inaya had begged her mother for the credit to attend university. It had been a slow crawl upward to become an engineer even with raw talent, since the summers when other students traveled the galaxy for inspiration were spent hunting and trading the proceeds to pay for upcoming classes._ _

__Shiala’s memories weren’t of tracking beasts in the jungle, but of being a child of barely ten the first time her mother had taken her to a construction site. Inaya had led her by the hand as she looked in awe at titanium girders, curving like the ribs of a monster above her head. Her mother, despite sharing Terach’s stoic temperament, had smiled when they reached the center, looking past the scaffolds to and dust to see what the building would eventually become._ _

__“I will, _auma_.” Shiala let her hand fall from Benezia’s back. “If your daughter is so intent on working off a little energy, maybe we should sit and rest a while.”_ _

__The matriarch’s expression faltered. “She was meant to have a father.”_ _

__Shiala swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. Benezia still had offered no explanation for why she and Aethyta had broken their bond, meaning every word said on the matter felt like an intrusion. “She still has a father.”_ _

__Benezia’s eyes fluttered closed, a faint flush of heat rising to her cheeks. Shiala reached up, fingers brushing over the matriarch’s brow. It was warm to the touch._ _

__“You’re feverish.” She said, concern twisting her mouth._ _

__“It’s simply stress from the move–” The protest quickly fell short as Benezia’s shoulders tensed._ _

__“We’re going to sit down. I’ll have Hessa bring you some water until it passes. If it doesn’t, I’ll call your doctor.”_ _

__“My body has felt like such a burden.” Benezia’s words were barely above a whisper. “Having my daughter long for escape does that no favors.”_ _

__“She wants her mother to be healthy.” Shiala said firmly. “We’ve been standing for hours. You just need to rest.”_ _

__No further argument was offered as she led Benezia back down the stairs, guiding the matriarch to the nearest couch. It was Farizah that came at her call, eyes widening before the priestess scurried off to the kitchen for water. Shiala offered small sips at a time until Benezia finished the glass and slipped into a perfectly peaceful sleep against her shoulder._ _

__“How much sleep did she get last night?” She asked Farizah, tone muted to not disturb Benezia’s slumber._ _

__“I’m not–” The priestess frowned. “I’m not sure. Her room was separate from ours and you weren’t there to check in.”_ _

__Feeling the sharp sensation of guilt piercing her chest, Shiala simply nodded. “Keep an eye on her, even when I’m not there. She needs us, more than ever.”_ _

__“Is it because of Ae–”_ _

__She cut off Farizah with a dark look. “Perhaps. But it would be best that we don’t speak of it while she’s prone to dreams.”_ _

__“I’ll leave you be.” Farizah said, turning on her heel. “It’s you she needs right now, Shiala.”_ _

__There was no jealousy to match the words, only a knowing look cast over the _atanma’s_ shoulder before she walked out of the room. Shiala set the comment aside and slid her arm around Benezia’s shoulder. The matriarch murmured something incomprehensible in her sleep, but wasn’t disturbed._ _

__She prayed that winter would come quickly._ _


	3. Chapter 3

**[2077 CE]**

Shiala raised the _lathal_ just in time to block Musahir's strike. Biotic energy rippled through the wooden staff as they both started to struggle for a firm grip on the weapon. With a grunt of exertion, Shiala channeled a surge of power into her hands, the resulting burst sending the other commando flying. She went on the offensive, closing the distance between them in a few quick steps.

The red-marked matron recovered in seconds, swinging both her legs in a brutal gesture that took Shiala out at the knees. Limited to grappling with her lower body thanks to the staff, Shiala tried to lock down the bulk of Musahir's weight, only to get an elbow driven into the pit of her stomach. The pained gasp that followed was the only opening needed for her to lose her grip and feel the _lathal_ pressed against her throat, thrumming with energy.

Letting her arms fall slack, Shiala took a moment to catch her breath.

"Athame's bloodied shield, Musa," She began once most of the ache had faded, "you're the dirtiest fighter on the continent." 

The other commando chuckled, bouncing to her feet before offering Shiala a hand. "Only because we're sparring. I'd be kicked out of any _lathal_ competition on Thessia."  
"It's because you're a marine." Shiala smiled broadly, taking the staff in hand to examine it. "No training that out of you."

"You don't hold it against me, do you, Captain?" Musahir returned the grin. "Is there something wrong with the _lathal_?"

Running her thumb down the length of the wood, Shiala frowned. "There's a crack in the center." She glanced up. "And even if I was still a captain, I wouldn't be yours. Unless you found an ounce of sense and joined the army."

"Give it here." Musahir extended her hand.

Shiala tossed the staff over, watching as the younger asari summarily snapped the weapon in half over one knee. Sparks fizzled from the cracked center, proving her suspicions. With the way biotic energy was channeled through the wood, a break in the middle of a sparring match could mean terrible injury.

"I'll toss it in the incinerator when we go back inside." She said.

"Too bad the priestesses didn't plant any _l'at_ trees in the earlier season." Shiala said, stepping onto the stone path to the garden. "We could carve another."

"Maybe you could, country maiden." Musahir fell in line behind her. "I never learned to cut that wood straight."

Glancing over her shoulder, Shiala's smile returned. "You should. It's quite relaxing."

Muted grunts and shouts filled the air as they turned the corner into the main body of the garden. The rest of the unit, save for a perimeter patrol, were practicing throws and grappling on the grass. They were only ten feet from one of the fountains - symbolically left dry for the winter - but Shiala hiped they remembered twenty years before when a pair had tumbled into a hanar light sculpture gifted to Benezia. Aethyta had given them an unusually harsh lecture on how painstaking the creation was to have made.  


Her eyes immediately sought out the matriarch, who was under the curved white roof of a rotunda. A datapad was perched on the extensive swell of Benezia's stomach, brow knit as her fingers flew over the projected keyboard. The violet linen shift she wore was stretched tight, although it had been bought only the week before. Even with the estate's environmental controls holding back the bone-deep chill of winter, Shiala saw Benezia shiver. She could be sweating a moment later, subject in recent weeks to the whims of hot and cold flashes. The matriarch had refused hormone regulation beyond the standard supplements over concerns of aggravating her condition, but it was still fairly miserable.

"Goddess, that child's taking its time." Musahir said, drawing Shiala from her thoughts. "Winter's nearly over."

"Better late than early." Shiala frowned. "Mind the _lathal_ , Musa."

Turning over the broken pieces in her hands, Musahir nodded. "I'll say a prayer over the fire for the girl, too."

Shiala watched the wrestling a moment longer before her feet carried her to the platform below the rotunda. Benezia's focus wasn't broken as she took a seat, still intent on writing. A moment later the matriarch stiffened, grasping at her stomach. Pain flickered through sky blue eyes before they settled on Shiala, her lips curving in a faint smile.

"She's been giving her opinion on my work all morning."

"Like any proper teacher's daughter." Shiala let her palm rest on the matriarch's forearm. Benezia's skin felt cool and firm to the touch. "Are you cold, _auma_?"

"It's better than the hot flashes. I can't concentrate when I feel taken by fever." She gestured at the datapad, displacing Shiala's hand. "And this writing is useless. Diplomats from High Command are asking my opinion on conflicts I've only read about, to judge politicians I've never met. The temple wants me to interpret some of Janiri's writings for the upcoming holiday so they can give matchmaking advice." Benezia couldn't conceal her faint disdain for the latter task. "I'm...cut off from everything."

"It will be weeks at most, if not days." Shiala leaned back against the bench. "Farizah's been keeping the hospital up-to-date. They'll be ready for you anytime."

The original plan for a home birth had been scrapped with Aethyta's departure, making the topic a sore subject, but there were only so many ways she could offer comfort as the date came closer. Benezia had to be one of the most important people in her life, but Shiala had taken to heart her father's stern lessons when she cried or showed anger as a child. She was supposed to be composed, disciplined. When others around her had trouble keeping control, she tended to buckle down, but Benezia wasn't a fellow soldier to be forced to snap out of it. Instead she found herself offering her hand, having to hope that the matriarch's fingers entwining with hers meant the gesture helped.

"I've decided on a name." Benezia said softly. "I know it's tradition to wait until she's born, but I can't seem to think of any other."

Shiala managed a small smile. "I'm sure it's fitting."

"Have you ever-" Benezia hesitated. "I apologize. It's a very personal question."

Confusion knit the commando's brow. "With all respect _auma_ , I live in your home and eat at your table. Everything I do is to protect you and your house. Personal and professional are nearly one and the same."

"That doesn't mean I have the right to pry into every aspect of your life." Benezia sighed quietly. "I was going to ask if you ever intended to have children."

Shiala shook her head. "Fifty years as a matron has yet to convince me. My mother was only a little older than I am, but she had my father's lifespan to consider. I haven't had any partners since I was with the Irregulars, much less a bondmate."

It was Benezia's turn to smile. The matron was nothing if not frank, in nearly all aspects of life. "Then where does your future lay?"

"Here, until you find yourself not in need of me." Shiala said.

"That could be over three centuries, providing little changes. You would be a matriarch by the end."

"Has that stopped you from having a daughter and calling?" The matron asked, although the question rang rhetorical. "When the time comes, I'll confront it."

Another flicker of hesitation crossed Benezia's face. "And this, here, is enough?"

The seed of doubt in the older asari's voice verged on heartbreaking. A hundred questions sprang to Shiala's mind - _why did Aethyta leave, why are you having this child_ \- but she held her tongue on every one.

A strange sound, like water droplets falling on stone, drew her from the sudden surge of frustration. Green eyes focused on the fountain, which was dry enough to gather dust, and then outside the walls of the estate. It was too cold to rain. She frowned before glancing downward, confirming her final suspicion.

"Your house has given my life meaning for almost a hundred years, _auma_ , as has every lesson you've offered me." Keeping her voice even, she gently squeezed Benezia's hand. "And I believe your water just broke."

Abject surprise was rare to see on the matriarch's face, but it arose in full force when she looked down, tugging the barrier of her skirts far enough out of the way to see.  


"Goddess, it felt just like a shiver." Benezia blinked, momentarily at a loss. "We must--"

"Yes." Shiala stood up, gently releasing the hand entwined with her own. "Nika, get the acolytes!"

Sprawled on the grass as she was, it took a second for the commando to leap to her feet. "What? Why?"

"Because they have a birth to attend."

Shiala's words immediately stirred the unit to action, with Nika bring up her omnitool to warn the foot patrol and interrupt the atanmas' private meditation. Farizah emerged almost immediately, unlocking the private port to allow access to the estate's skycars. She rushed to Benezia's side, paying little attention to the soldiers that were hurtling past her.

" _Auma_ , are you--" The normally collected priestess looked slightly flushed, mouth tensed in a moue of concern.

"I'm fine, Farizah." Benezia stood slowly of her own accord, refusing both hands that reached out to offer assistance. "I think that she finally grew tired of my complaints. Could you please...see that a towel and another skirt make it into my car?"

"The bail-out bag is already in the first trunk." Shiala said to the hurried matron.

Farizah quietly sniffed. "It has a change of clothes and a medical kit. You make it sound like we're going to war."

Shiala thought mentioning the scan-proof pistol she'd tucked into the bottom liner was ill-advised.

"The only battle will be making sure we have her at the hospital before the media finds out." She said aloud.

"Your point is...unfortunately taken." Farizah frowned before turning on her heel and quickly cutting through the garden to the front of the house.

Despite the jumbled start, the rest of the preparation passed in an efficient blur. With the car loaded and a few quick calls made, Shiala climbed into the driver's seat of the leading vehicle, swiping her omnitool over the console to start the engine.

Benezia leaned back in her seat, skirt drawn out to cover the edges of the towel. It always took a split second for Shiala to ensure her ascent was slow; she'd organized enough sudden evacuations with the Irregulars that immediate instinct was to go from parked to five hundred and hope the shuttle held together.

"Are there any messages you want to send?" She asked a few minutes later, waiting for a signal to flash before accelerating and popping into a lane of midday Serrice traffic. It was tempting to forward diplomatic clearance codes to traffic control and pass into the emergency lane, but Benezia seemed stable enough to last a less breakneck drive. The move could also draw quite a bit of attention, if any reporting VI had a tracker on their plates.

Benezia shook her head. "I'd prefer nothing went out until after the birth. Even one message could provide the basis for speculation."

It amazed Shiala how long the pregnancy had stayed off the radar. After centuries of working with only weeks of reprieve, no one had found it particularly unusual when Benezia retreated from public affairs for the last two years. For every hundred contacts the matriarch had across the galaxy, she invited one to her household, and that tended to be for very private, complicated business negotiations. 

Friends were few and far between, much less ones that visited often enough to notice the slow swell of Benezia's stomach. Those the older asari held closest in her heart were older mentors, many of which had passed away recently. In her first thirty years with the household, Shiala had attended a staggering number of funerals.

"Of course." Shiala kept her eyes focused on the highspeed lane in front of her. It was maddening, pretending nothing had changed.

She and Aethyta had spent a month planning logistics and contingencies, updating the plan after key points in the pregnancy. The irascible matriarch was supposed to be driving the first car, telling anecdotes from her own experience with childbirth to make Benezia smile and remember how to breathe. Shiala had never seen an asari birth, not since the poorly aging vids in school. She'd seen girls arrested on the streets of New Alara, and killed on an operation in Chalkhos. No one had ever left a child in her care, not when her youth was spent conditioning and going to the temple.

"Shiala." Benezia's voice broke through her thougths. "Our exit."

"Goddess." She hissed through her teeth, immediately changing lanes and making a sharp turn just on this side of legal. "My apologies."

"There's hours yet." The matriarchs's mile was weary, but genuine. "I fear the skycar may end up being more comfortable than my hospital bed."

"If they'd let me install a bomb sensor in that too, I'd breathe a little easier."

It took a moment for Benezia to catch Shiala's muted smile, but the ensuing laugh eased some of the tension inside the car. The commando's sense of humor could be baffling at times, but it heartened her to know the younger asari still made the occasional attempt at a joke.

After landing on the back port of the hospital, Shiala sent an alert to Benezia's physician and let the unit fall out. Farizah took the bag out of the back and followed them into a side entrance. It was only a minute later that Dr. T'Rali emerged, immediately walking up to the matriarch and clasping her hands.

"Lady Benezia." She said. "I just got your message."

"Nitya, please." Benezia offered a serene smile. "The formalities aren't necessary."

"You put me through medical school and spoke at my graduation." Nitya returned the smile. "Old habits die hard."

"Someone with your talents deserved a patron." Benezia let out a slightly shaky breath. "And now I can reap the rewards of it, since my daughter is suddenly so determined to come into the world."

"Your bed's been made ready. Just follow me." The younger asari glanced at Shiala. "A room's been set aside for all of you to wait. Only immediate family's permitted."

"Except-" Shiala began.

"Except in case of emergency, Ms. Na'tar. You're still her contact."

A trio of nurses dressed in dark green uniforms emerged from the hallway, two of them immediately moving to escort Benezia from either side. The third stopped in front of Shiala, painted lips curving in a broad smile.

"I'll take all of you to the conference room." She said, holding a datapad tightly to her chest. "It's right down the hall."

Shiala nodded; a gesture was all it took for the other commandos to fall in line. Farizah took point, asking the nurse a few pointed questions about Benezia's accomodations before they passed the threshold. It was a sizeable meeting hall, with a polished oval table as a centerpiece and over a dozen chairs. A small kitchen was tucked against the back wall, furnished with steel appliances and a well-used coffee dispenser atop the counter.

Farizah set the bag on the table, briefly mystified by the sound of a faint clunk inside. Shiala silenced a soft hum of amusement, brow knitting in confusion when the nurse pushed the datapad into her hands.

"What's this?"

"Structural plans of the hospital." She said. "Lady Benezia indicated you might have an interest in looking at them."

Shiala looked down at the datapad, unable to completely mute her surprise. "Thank you."

"It's no problem." The nurse smiled again. "Just make sure to give it back to the front desk when you leave."

After a moment's pause, Shiala settled into the seat at the head of the table and began poring over the plans, highlighting exits and tactical weaknesses. She frowned at a floor-to-ceiling window located near where patient records were kept; any saboteur who knew a proper biotic lift could easily bypass an entire floor of security.

The other commandos milled around for an hour or so before Musahir struck up a conversation about the Serrice Slicers and the Nos Astra Comets game the night before, immediately igniting a passionate argument about a controversial foul. Hessa intervened with a scathing litany on the skyball referee at the game, a flush darkening the maiden's cheeks when her tirade was over.

"I still watch a lot of sports." She admitted quietly, the weight of Farizah's questioning gaze making her quickly return to the text she'd brought to study.

Shiala continued to map out both escape and assault routes, her fingers moving over the screen in quick swipes. It was all she could do to keep her mind off Benezia. The matriarch wasn't alone in the strictest sense, surrounded by an entire suite of doctors and nurses, but there was no bondmate, no companion to talk her through pain and breathing, to hold her hand when the comfort of simple contact was needed. 

As terrible as it felt to admit, some part of Shiala had hoped Aethyta would break into the hospital to make the birth, to hear her daughter's first breath. Benezia needed someone to share that moment with, even if she no longer expected Aethyta to be a father. The reasoning behind it all was still a mystery, for the low-boiling tension to be enough for Benezia to simply force her bondmate out. Shiala had heard the matriarchs work through plenty of arguments over a century; hell, even she and Aethyta had butted heads more than once over security matters, but it was always resolved. She respected the matriarch's innate tactical ability and the unique perspective centuries of eclectic experience brought to the table. Aethyta also had an enduring streak of generosity and kindness, no matter how many attempts were made to hide it.

Benezia's daughter - the girl without a name, who must have felt her mother's tenative excitement eventually fade to weariness - would know none of it. Shiala considered how much trouble she could truly be in for forcing her way into the elder asari's room; would security actually remove her, or would they understand? Of course, the last thing she wanted to do was startle Benezia in an admittedly weakened state, much less put anyone's health at risk, but tightly gripping the datapad between her hands was making matters worse rather than better.

"Captain." A voice came from over her shoulder. "Shiala."

Musahir was suddenly in her sight; how the other commando had gotten so close without her realizing made Shiala's brow knit in confusion. She didn't even have the energy to refute the old title.

"Yes, Musa?"

The younger asari's smile had an edge to it she hadn't seen before. Concern? 

"You look like you could use some air." Musahir reached for the datapad, carefully easing it from Shiala's iron grip. "Plenty of hallways here."

She cast a surreptious look around the room. The other commandos were deeply involved in an arm-wrestling competition, loudly exchanging bets and boasts between them, while Farizah was leading the priestesses in a calm biotic exercise. Musahir had noticed her tension before anyone else, allowing a chance to quietly slip away without losing face.

"You're a good friend." She said softly.

"And you're a bodyguard with many well-deserved concerns." Musahir said with a broad smile. "I'll tell them you're harassing the nurses for an update."

As she rose from her seat, Shiala rolled her shoulders back, feeling a knot of muscle that had grown tight and sore between them. The other commando's knuckles briefly brushed her ribs, subtly encouraging her towards the doorway. After taking a deep breath, she walked past everyone and out of the room.

The halls were surprisingly quiet, with only a few muted omni-rings and one or two doctors conversing to break the silence. Although she walked without any particular destination in mind, poring over the hospital plans seemed to have left its own impression. Shiala found herself at the threshold of the shrine, and after a moment's pause to listen, it was clear she was alone. As she passed through the doorway and a pair of dark, soft curtains, the cloying scent of salt and smoke filled her senses. 

Candles encased in glass cups surrounded the edges of the room, their fires kept breathing by a small, ingenious mechanism. A glance to her right revealed a thick stack of cushions, traditionally meant for siarist meditation. An altar made of warm blue stone took up the entire back of the room, a statue of Athame crowning the center. At the goddess' feet lay a few small offerings - a string of metallic beads and bundled herbs - right next to thick sticks of incense wrapped in a thin cord. 

Shiala's patience for meditation was tenuous on the best of days. She had been raised with both Athamist and siarist beliefs, thanks to the guidance of her parents. To them, the goddesses were the guardians and mentors of the asari, while siari was the message of unity they spread throughout the universe. It was simple enough to transition from one ritual to another; she remembered them all. She gently took a stick of incense and placed into a divot carved in the altar, right at Athame's feet. A lighter beside the statue sparked just enough heat to set it alight, and Shiala took a step back.

For a moment, she simply breathed. Silence - true silence - was one of the rarest things to find at the estate; even in the hours before sunrise, whoever was assigned to patrol in the gardens would talk between themselves or one of the priestesses would slip to the kitchen and make a midnight snack. The colorless smoke filled her senses with sea salt and citrus as she pressed her palms together and closed her eyes.

"Sacred Athame, I seek your indulgence." Her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. "Come to me as the matron whose stomach swells, who bears daughters that breathe life into the world. Bless the new mother under your sight; free her from pain, heal her quickly from within. Let her daughter grow with health and happiness. Let her have her mother's image but build her own legacy."

Shiala stayed as she was until the incense burned to its end. Laying the remains of the thin stick by those other supplicants had left, she let out another deep breath before turning on her heel and leaving the shrine. She was nearly back to the conference room when a nurse emerged from an adjoining hall. After a few calm steps in the opposite direction, the nurse suddenly stopped and looked over her shoulder.

"Are you Shiala?"

"Yes." She nodded. "Why? Did something--"

The nurse smiled. "No. Everything went very well. Lady Benezia's taking a moment with the girl alone, but she asked me to invite you in."

Shiala felt herself instinctively returning the smile. The swell of tension in her chest burst, replaced by relief and the slight sagging of her shoulders. They had been rigid, like a steel frame lay beneath her skin.

"Are you sure she doesn't need more time?" 

"She seemed quite eager to see you." The nurse pointed down the hall from which she'd originally come. "Room five hundred."

Shiala was hard-pressed not to rush to the room, feeling an uptick in her pulse. The door opened with a soft hiss, revealing Benezia in a pale hospital gown. There was a bundle in her arms from which a tiny blue foot protuded, toes curled. The matriarch had the the girl's face gently positioned against her chest, head canted downward as she watched the child in the depths of slumber.

She looked up when Shiala approached her bedside. Fatigue lined Benezia's face, but there was contentment there as well, a sort of serenity.

"Would you believe she was crying just a moment before?" The matriarch asked.

"I would." At Benezia's invitation, Shiala sat down at the edge of the bed, near where the sheets were bunched around the older asari's hips. "What did you decide for a name?"

Benezia pushed the top of the blanket back, revealing the small, soft nubs that would eventually become a full crest. "Liara." 

"She's beautiful." Shiala said. "Is...there anyone you want me to call?"

For some reason, she wasn't surprised when the matriarch shook her head. She was, however, when one of Benezia's hands reached out to grasp hers, gently squeezing.

"Not yet. I want a moment's peace before everyone finds out." Benezia looked back at Liara, who made a soft sound trying to clutch at her mother's gown. "But I didn't want to be by myself either."

Shiala squeezed Benezia's hand in turn, unsure of what to say. All the questions she had from before remained, but they weren't frantically rushing through her mind, making her tense and worry. There was time. 

Benezia's breath slowed, the rise and fall of her chest even. Both mother and daughter were lost to sleep, but Shiala stayed awake on the edge of the bed, making sure no one else came to disturb them.


	4. Chapter 4

The first few months passed in a frantic blur. While Shiala was more than used to a minimum of sleep, the taxing hours of a newborn's schedule were quite the surprise. She woke every time Liara gave a particularly loud cry, laying sprawled beneath her sheets until it was clear there was no other distress. Eventually Benezia moved to one of the couches downstairs and she slept on the opposite side, waking to silently fetch water when the matriarch asked, not wanting to stir the babe sleeping at her breast.

Just before dawn, her eyes would open just enough to see Farizah make her way into the kitchen, setting tea to brew and eezo supplements out for Benezia. While the shiny blue pills were commonly kept in a commando's pack when deployed offworld, pregnancy could be just as draining on an asari's system, especially when it came to their biotics. While the swell of Benezia's stomach was slowly fading and the matriarch's energy returning, Shiala knew that Farizah occasionally put a few extra vitamins in with breakfast to encourage her recovery.

Liara seemed to be an endless source of fascination for the acolytes - and a few of the commandos - during the day, who marveled over the shade of the girl's eyes, the way tiny blue fingers tried to clutch at their clothes. Shiala didn't quite understand the allure, but she saw the way Benezia looked at her daughter when she was in another's arms, the sharp protectiveness that could take their house down to its foundations, if need be. It ran at odds to the restlessness that suffused the matriarch when she was sitting still, trying to balance both Liara and a datapad as she debated siarist history with the _atamna_ or struggled to type out a wordy reply into her omnitool. Shiala knew better than to offer assistance in either matter; Farizah would be better suited, but even the sharp-tongued matron wasn't foolish enough to assume Benezia would want help with such trivalities. 

The first time Benezia asked her to hold Liara, she froze. She'd carried primed explosives with less anxiety than when she took the child in her arms, who let out a sleepy sigh and promptly lay against her shoulder. Liara's crest was still small and starting to taper, the cartilage tips soft to the touch. 

"I'll be just a moment." Benezia said, a small smile disguising the matriarch's fatigue.

"Of course, _auma_." Her tone seemed distant as she looked down at Liara, who weighed barely nothing in her grasp.

Although she imagined Aethyta would have clocked her for saying so, Liara was most certainly Benezia's daughter. Even beneath the infantile roundness of the girl's face, there was a similarity in structure, the shade of her skin deviating towards her mother's pale blue rather than her father's cobalt. Arguments about how much influence the father had in an asari pairing had long since been up for debate, and was beyond what Shiala ever spent time to consider. She saw a great deal of herself in her late father when it came to strength and personality; was that not as significant as the washed out markings his blood bid rise across her face?

The sound of the perimeter alarm tripping, lighting up her omnitool like a flare, made her entire body stand at rigid attention. Benezia immediately appeared in the doorway, dress halfway zipped and brow knit with tension.

"Take her and lock the door." Shiala said firmly, nearly shaking with pent up tension, the urge to dash outside. Liara seemed barely disturbed by the noise that had issued from her omnitool, bright blue eyes still closed.

Benezia immediately obeyed and gently took the girl from her arms, biotic sparks rising from underneath her skin to form a barrier, shielding both her and Liara. Shiala had never seen such a reaction from the Matriarch before, who usually gave a few words of caution before any defensive response. She cast one last look their way before turning on her heel and running out of the bedroom.

"Report, now." She snapped into her omnitool.

A sharp burst of static answered her order, earning a curse as she flipped the safety off the pistol hanging from her hip. She could hear the rest of the unit mustering around the estate, but without communication, she couldn't be sure where the threat was. Without the secondary alarm tripped, the intruder hadn't made it into the house, but that was little comfort when only a few kinetic barriers prevented a determined entry.

Once she was past the threshold, a single tap on her omnitool locked every door and window in the house, the shields suddenly visible as an extra charge through the generators provided another layer of protection. After drawing her pistol, she summoned her biotics, forcing some extra speed into her step as the rest of the energy covered her like armor. In the months since they'd moved to the estate, she'd made herself familiar with every inch of it, and knew where the best vantage point would be. 

The fact that it put her at the most risk was a given.

She exhaled and forced a surge of power through her legs, ignoring the slight lurch in her stomach as she defied gravity just long enough to catch the edge of the roof. Swinging herself onto the roughened surface, she immediately placed her back against one of the dormers, looking down over the garden. 

Nika and Musahir were moving as a pair, rifles making a full sweep as they cut through a stone path between the flowers. She caught sight of Jinan for a brief second before the other commando activated a cloak, the tech concealing both the matron's lithe form and a drawn submachinegun from view. The others were carrying a mix of weapons, grouped in twos and threes while they covered the grounds. Despite a keen eye, she couldn't see anything amiss around the perimeter, nor any other signs of movement.

"Call out hostiles!" She shouted, years of practice making her voice carry out to the walls. With the security channel jammed, it was crude but effective.

"No hostiles sighted!" The words were echoed back to her from a dozen throats, all save Jinan. If the infiltrator found her mark, it would have been immediately clear.

It was then that she spotted the flickering barrier closest to the garage. It was subtle, only happening every thirty seconds or so, but lasting just long enough for an saboteur to slip through. She didn't want to call out the location and alert whoever was skulking around. They must have had a cloak themselves, to still remain hidden. As much as she disliked the options at hand, she wanted the intruder caught before they breached the house.

This late in the afternoon, the sun cast shadows almost everywhere, and it only took her a moment to catch two odd glints of light, seemingly manifested from the air. As effective as modern cloaks were, the constant change between light and shadow could tax the adaptive technology to its limit. Both signatures were close to the walls of the house, with no way to discern the difference between them.

"Jinan, back to the wall and drop cloak!"

She braced herself the moment she saw a ripple in the air, the reflexive movement as the other commando was revealed, weapon ready to fire. The impact was going to hurt a lot more than the jump.

Her body slammed into the figure that remained hidden, forcing a grunt from her throat as the oxygen rebelled in her lungs and they both hit the ground. The cloak fizzled and vanished, giving her just enough time to catch a glimpse of blue skin - another asari, not that she had expected otherwise - before she swung her pistol in a short arc. She saw the blow in a slow motion, reacting just an instant too late when she met familiar dark violet eyes, a cobalt brow knit in rage.

Aethyta let out a groan of pain at the blow, but it didn't take long for the matriarch to recover, despite teeth suddenly blue with blood. Shiala knew she should have withdrawn, gone on the defensive, but she hesitated just long enough.

The matriarch's punch split her lip, knocking her head back until she felt the screaming strain of muscle. Shaking off the daze, she rolled back off of Aethyta, ending up with her back against the house and weapon aimed right between the older asari's eyes. Shiala didn't flinch as blood trickled slowly down her chin, the jolt of pain already fading to a dull ache. Her body was flush with adrenaline, waiting for any sign of Aethyta going for a gun, the flare of biotics.

Instead, the matriarch's eyes narrowed, one hand reaching up to gingerly touch her jaw, where the barrel of the pistol had struck. There wasn't any blood besides where her teeth had cut the inside of her mouth, but it would swell and bruise in a matter of moments.

"Are you carved out of fucking lead, Shiala?" Aethyta spat out a thick gob of blue before massaging against the injured side of her face. "I've had skycars hit me with less."

Despite the glib - if outraged - words, Shiala didn't let her aim falter. 

"Why are you here?" She demanded, unable to keep the ice out of her voice.

"To see my daughter." The matriarch snapped. "Why do you think?"

"There's a front gate, Aethyta." Her finger eased slightly away from the trigger guard. "The entire unit is about-"

She didn't even finish her sentence before the other commandos came into view, all primed for a shot. Recognizing Aethyta didn't make them relax any, not with eyes bright from the hunt and centuries of training keeping their bodies controlled. If circumstances had been different, Shiala would have taken pride in their response. She'd chosen all of them for a reason.

"Everyone stand down." She said firmly. "Aethyta is going to enlighten us as to why she didn't bother to knock."

Every weapon lowered except her own, which had drifted slightly down from Aethyta's face to the matriarch's chest. She intended to remain a threat until the older asari proved there was no need for one.

"I've been sending Benezia messages for months." There, the anger was stifled, replaced by exhaustion. "She never responds." 

Aethyta's brow knit. "My daughter was born without me."

"It was her choice." Shiala finally lowered her pistol, flipping the safety back on with her thumb. "Like it was yours to break in here and make us think someone was about to try and kill them both."

"I had to be sure she was safe." Aethyta felt at one of her teeth, seeing it was loose. "I did leave all the security to you, after all."

Shiala almost wanted to laugh. It felt so familiar, the slightly acidic banter, even the sharp ache in her face. She and Aethyta had grappled once on the matriarch's insistence, and more than one elbow had found its way firmly ground into her nose. Everything had changed, and yet it hadn't.

"She was sleeping, you know." Shiala finally said, tone less grave.

"Benezia?" Aethyta frowned.

"No." She sighed. "Liara."

It was a low blow, using the name of Aethyta's daughter against her, but Shiala was angry. Angry that Aethyta had broken in, that Liara was probably awake and crying, but most of all that Benezia refused to tell her what had caused all this. It was frustrating to be so close and yet so utterly ignorant. Holstering her pistol, she moved to get on her feet, fingers going to the thread of blood coagulating on her chin. Nothing was broken; it probably wouldn't even scar.

When she offered her clean hand to the matriarch, Aethyta hesitated for only a moment before taking it and starting to stand. There was still plenty of wiry strength in the older asari's arm, enough to make it clear how much of a fight she would have had to put up with if Aethyta had more hostile intentions. If it had been anyone else, she would have relished the thought of such a challenge. 

"She's not going to let me see her, is she?" Aethyta asked.

Shiala let out a slow breath, her pulse finally evening out to its normal calm beat. "I was told not to allow you onto the property under any circumstance."

The matriarch did a poor job of concealing a wince. "Sounds about right."

"Go back to your posts." Shiala said, directing her words to the other commandos. "Musahir, tell Lady Benezia that it was a false alarm. I'll be there to speak to her in a moment."

"As you say." Musa's tone was reluctant, but she made a firm gesture for her fellow soldiers to fall out, finally returning her well-loved shotgun to the hard holster on her back.

Once they were out of earshot, Shiala crossed her arms. "You should leave."

Aethyta hissed through her teeth. "Ninety years didn't soften you one bit, did it?"

"If it had, you would have never let me into this-" She cleared her throat. The mansion behind her wasn't the matriarch's house anymore. "You wouldn't have let me protect her."

"Did I hurt her that much?" Aethyta shook her head. "Goddess, it wasn't even a fight."

"I don't know." Shiala said softly.

The older asari frowned. "She hasn't told you?"

"Not a word, since you've left."

It clearly wasn't the answer Aethyta wanted to hear, but she didn't have any other to offer.

"Tell her I want to see the kid. A vidcall, at the least." The matriarch shook her head again. "Or I'll be back again. I'm not asking her to tell Liara who I am, but she's my daughter too."

Shiala didn't say how almost every court case on Thessia sided against the father, how there was no way to prove that Aethyta had sired Liara at all. There had never been even the faintest hint of an affair from Benezia, much less reason to imply the cruelty. With or without one, Aethyta had no rights to the child she had watched grow for over a year.

"I will, Aethyta, but you can't come back like this." 

"You don't understand, Shiala." A growl edged into the matriarch's tone. "You've never been a mother or a father."

"I know that I almost shot you in the head." Shiala said. "That Jinan could have easily put her omniblade through your back without bothering to check who you were under the cloak."

"I had eyes on her the whole time." Aethyta groused.

"But not on me." Her head tilted slightly. "I shouldn't have been able to get the drop on you."

"First time for everything." The older asari let out a soft sigh. "You're the best soldier I know, Shiala. I don't have a damn clue what you'd do with yourself otherwise, but you're good at what you do."

It seemed inappropriate to refuse the compliment, but she certainly hadn't been expecting it. "I'll keep them safe."

Aethyta raised a brow. "Or you'll wake up with a shotgun in your mouth."

All humor drained away from Shiala's tone. "Gladly, if I failed."

The matriarch cleared her throat quietly. "Not even a smile? You've got it bad."

Shiala frowned. "What?"

"Never mind." Aethyta made a vague gesture. "I'll leave. Just go talk to her before she sends the rest of them back out here."

She nodded. "I will."

"The jammer's in a bush, by the way." The matriarch said after turning to walk away. "I'll pick it up on my way out."

"And the fence?" Shiala asked.

"Hacked one of the generators. It'll wear off." 

That was the last she heard before Aethyta went out of view. It was only a moment after that her omnitool triggered, reporting that the perimeter had been secured again. Tapping into the comm channel, she raised her wrist upward.

"Is she alright, Musahir?"

"Liara slept through the entire thing." A soft chuckle followed. "But Lady Benezia isn't happy."

"I can't imagine she would be." Shiala said.

The matron's amusement faded. "Did Aethyta leave?"

She couldn't help a soft sigh. "She did. I'm coming back in."

"Loud and clear, captain." A quiet click followed as the channel closed.

Shiala could feel sweat beneath her leathers as she walked back up the stairs, the automatic temperature set a few degrees cooler than outside. The pistol felt heavy on her hip; it had been so long since she'd drawn it except for target practice, the weapon had become part of her body, her gait. When the bedroom door opened, she could help a soft breath of relief, seeing Liara still resting against Benezia's shoulder.

The matriarch's eyes widened. "Shiala, your face-"

Her hand went to the blood on her chin. She had completely forgotten about the blow to her lip. "It's nothing."

"Aethyta hit you?" Benezia frowned.

"I struck her with my pistol before I realized who she was." Opening the door to the bathroom with a wave of her hand, she turned on the sink and tilted her head down, starting to wash the blood away. "I should have expected her to retaliate."

Benezia went silent behind her. She checked the inside of her lip in the mirror, satisfied that it would heal with a dollop of medigel and a few nights of sleep. While it was certainly swollen, there wasn't any damage to her teeth or anything more serious. After painting her lip with gel from the cabinet, she let it sit for a moment before turning around. The matriarch's expression was surprisingly icy.

"She asked that you let her see Liara at some point." Shiala said. "Or at least allowed her to see Liara over a vidcall."

"After she breaks into my house?" Benezia's jaw tensed. "And assaults you, no less."

"In her defense, I did jump on her from the second story roof." She leaned back against the doorway, arms crossing. "That would startle anyone."

The matriarch gently drew her fingers over the back of Liara's head. "I'll consider it. I just don't want her thinking rash actions will get her more privileges."

Shiala quietly marveled at how Benezia and Aethyta had been bondmates at all. They seemed to enjoy each other's idiosyncracies for so long, in a fashion so blatant she had once been laughed out of their bedroom after mistaking the matriarch's pleasure at Aethyta's hands to be a cry for help and attempted a rescue. To be fair, it had been her first week in the household, but the embarrassment had lasted far longer. She had seen them fight as well, but they always seemed to grow from it, spending the mornings after sharing coffee and indulging in one another's company.

It had changed right after Benezia became pregnant. The celebration had faded, replaced by an uneasiness Shiala had never been able to determine the source of. Aethyta had remained in her usual spirits, seeming oblivious to the shift in her bondmate. The matriarch happily occupied herself with plans for the future, insisting that she could actually focus on a nice crib and all the details when she wasn't the one bearing the daughter this time. She had watched Aethyta pore over books and articles - for the first time in decades - on matriarchial pregnancy, insistent that Benezia get enough rest and the right food. 

And all of it had come to naught.

"I...would recommend it, _auma_." Shiala said softly. "She wasn't hostile. She was grieving."

Benezia's brow knit. "I know."

After that, silence fell between them again. Sensing Benezia's fatigue, she quietly took her leave, retreating to her own bedroom. She set her pistol out to be cleaned and stripped out of her leathers, noting that set would have to be washed before she wore it again. The back was scraped from the roof and grass ground into the knees from when she'd tackled Aethyta. At least it nothing had torn.

The warmth of the shower brought little comfort as she mechanically washed away sweat and dirt, finding her thoughts refusing to drift away from what Aethyta's face looked like when she had said Liara's name. The matriarch was right, she had no experience with parenthood to speak of, nothing but the last few weeks at Benezia's side and helping Farizah childproof the house. Was that the key piece keeping her from understanding what had happened? Being oblivious wasn't a state she took well to.

Stepping out of the stall, she had almost completely dried herself off when the comm panel near the door buzzed. Shifting the towel to one hand, she reached forward to answer it.

"Auma?"

"No, Shiala." Farizah's voice answered from the panel. The matron's tone sounded somewhat off. "There's someone on the main comm unit for you downstairs."

Shiala frowned. "Did you get a name?"

"Isa T'Sen." The priestess replied. "She said she knows your mother."

"Isa attends my mother." She said, frown deepening. "I'll be down in a moment."

After pulling on a dark tank top and a pair of leather pants, Shiala left the bedroom, bare feet silent against the smooth floor. She risked a glance into Benezia's room once more, feeling some of the tension ease from her chest at the sight of the matriarch laying on the bed, quietly reading to Liara. Whether or not it was an illusion, seeing them both at peace made her breathe a little easier.


	5. Chapter 5

"I'm so sorry, Shiala."

Isa's image flickered from the comm unit, brow tense with sorrow. The nurse was nearly a hundred years her senior, with dappled markings that shone silver in the right light. They complimented a smile she'd never seen absent from the matron's face, until now.

Her mouth tasted like ash.

"How did it happen?" She asked, keeping her tone even.

"It started in Palaven." Isa's fingers swept over a datapad, drawing up a report. "We spent a month or so in the capital and your mother picked up a cough, as she tends to in the winters. It seemed relatively mild and responded to treatment, but when we arrived at Dekunna...even with the pressurized rooms, adjusted for the gravity, she collapsed."

Shiala's brow knit. "Why was she on Dekunna?"

Isa's lips pursed. "To visit your father's memorial."

"Of course." She let out a slow breath. "Why did she collapse?"

"A subarachnoid hemorrhage, as the result of an aneurysm. She complained about a headache in the shuttle, but the medication I gave her had no effect. A few minutes after, she fell." Isa frowned. "The...autopsy revealed the longterm damage to her lungs was far more than had been anticipated. It was enough to produce a blood clot, which then burst."

Anger burned in Shiala's chest, hands tensing against the desk. It felt like it would break if she gripped it hard enough. 

"I hired you to watch her. You said you wouldn't let her travel if she was ill."

"Inaya was a matriarch, Shiala. My recommendations only went so far. She was close to refusing treatment entirely." Isa sighed. "She felt coddled."

Shiala closed her eyes. "Where is she now?"

"I wanted to speak to you before we moved her body from Dekunna. I have her will, but it's your choice if you want her buried here or on Thessia."

"I..." Her jaw tightened. "I can't leave Thessia."

Isa's knowing look cut her to the bone. "I'm sure Matriarch Benezia would grant you leave."

"She would." Shiala said. "But my mother wants - wanted - to be buried with my father."

Isa nodded, making a note on her datapad. "I'll see that the release order is signed. Her will said the plot was already financed."

She nodded. It had been decades ago when her mother called her on post, asking her to sign as a beneficiary and executor of the land on Dekunna. The plot was in Terach's home province, filled with lush forests. His memorial was carved from a native stone there, its natural placement undisturbed. There was a grave waiting there for her too, when the time came.

"There's also the matter of her personal property." Isa added. "I've notified her lawyer so you can receive your inheritance. Her blueprints are to be donated to the engineer's guild she had membership in, but the rest was bequeathed to you."

Her smile was weak. "I don't even know what she owns anymore."

The older asari's thumb swept over the surface of the datapad, changing the page. "Her house in New Alara is the primary property. There's a few stocks and bonds...she sold her skycar before we left on this last trip."

"Was she happy, Isa?" Shiala asked softly. 

"I thought so." A hint of Isa's smile returned. "We were exploring the galaxy, Inaya always had her sketchbook in hand. She found one of the oldest silversmiths left on Palaven and he showed her some of the purest metal she'd ever seen. He cut a fragment of it to give her as a necklace."

"Is she-" 

Isa nodded. "Yes, she's still wearing it." 

"Make sure it's buried with her." A message appeared on her omnitool from Farizah, letting her know dinner would be served momentarily. "Is there anything else?"

The older asari shook her head. "I'll contact you if anything else comes up. The preparations will take a few days."

"Thank you." Shiala dismissed the message, moving to stand. "Some of that inheritance is yours, Isa. You were with my mother almost as long as I was."

"There's no need, Shiala." Isa said. "Inaya was always very generous to me." 

Her fingers hovered over the terminal. "It will make me feel better."

Another flicker of a smile crossed the matron's lips. "As you wish. Be in peace, Shiala."

"You as well." She tapped the panel and ended the call.

Despite spending half the day amped on adrenaline from Aethyta's unexpected visit, she had no appetite. Bypassing the meditation room, she stepped into the small gym inside the house, feet bare against the woven mats overlaying darkly stained wood. Weights were racked in the corner closest to the mirror, and the faint smell of sweat lingered in the air. She wasn't interested in the iron, either. In her mood, it would have been easy to throw the bar and five hundred pounds through the wall.

The punching bag had looked better. A dozen soldiers casually battering it with fists, elbows, and knees at least once a day took its toll. Despite the worn canvas, the bag still felt like stone when it was struck. Shiala remembered it hurting, once.

Wrapping her hands was usually a comforting ritual, but this time it was frustrating to make the fabric lay even. She muttered a curse under her breath once both were tied, and fell into a proper stance. The first punch hit dead center, the second quickly following suit. Laying into the bag, face tight with fury, she flowed from technique to technique, feeling her body start to ache as she refused to stop, to stand still. How much time passed, she couldn't say.

"Captain."

Her leg moved in a sharp arc, shin slamming into the bag and sending it swinging dangerously from the chain. She reached out to catch it, breath forced in a harsh hiss between her teeth when the top of the bag struck her chest.

Without looking over her shoulder, she felt her arms tighten around the canvas, if only to keep her from falling. Sweat had soaked through her tank top, muscles quivering beneath her skin and threatening to buckle completely.

Shiala closed her eyes, willing her tone to be even. "Yes, Jinan?"

"We didn't see you at dinner." The commando crossed her arms. "Musahir thought you were upstairs, but you weren't in your room. "

Her brow knit. "I should have told Farizah I wasn't hungry. I just lost track of time."

"Everything alright?" Jinan asked. "I wasn't exactly happy leaving you alone with Aethyta earlier."

"I had a lot of energy to burn." She let go of the bag, watching it slowly swing back to stillness. "Aethyta was...fine. I'm not going to blame a father for wanting to see her child."

"She still popped you one." Jinan chuckled. "I'd have been on her in a second."

Shiala shrugged, ignoring the rigid tension between her shoulder blades. "I've been hit harder."

"Haven't we all?" The younger asari smiled. "I'll leave you to it, then. Benezia seemed a little concerned."

The casual demeanor faltered as she felt guilt bubble up in her chest like bile. "I'll talk to her. It was rude of me not to say anything."

Jinan's knuckles bumped her shoulder. "No one holds it against you, Shiala. We all need some space to vent."

She nodded, keeping her expression frozen as Jinan walked out of the gym, the traditional commando swagger in each step. The sweat had started to dry on her skin, making her cringe as she realized she'd need another shower. Maybe Benezia didn't need to know about Inaya, but her absence was an aberration, enough to provoke suspicion, and she wasn't going to talk to the matriarch while looking and smelling like she'd just gone twenty rounds.

After wiping the mat beneath the bag clean, she went back upstairs, feeling the distinct ache from calf to thigh with each step. It was rare for her to bother with painkillers, but it seemed a few might be necessary to avoid limping by morning. 

Two clear pills and ten minutes later, she stepped out of the shower for the second time. After throwing her drenched clothes in the laundry bin, she grabbed the shirt folded on top of the shelf and a pair of loose slacks. Leather felt a bit suffocating with the persistent throb throughout her legs. 

The logo on the shirt was almost completely faded, lines of white ink joined together to form the symbol for the Irregulars. While the emblem displayed at formal occasions was based on simplistic Alaran characters, Shiala remembered when the unit had thrown some funds together for some custom shirts, displaying a bit of tongue-in-cheek violence. A pair of M-96 Widows were crossed on the front above the initials N.A.I., prompting her to turn over to the back of the shirt, where _Negotation begins at the end of my rifle_ was imprinted in bold letters.

However crude, she couldn't help a smile. The style was cut for soldiers as well, keeping most of her arms bared where most asari tops went down to the wrists. It was bold, aggressive, for anyone but commandos and athletes to display skin and muscle so blatantly, although Shiala knew some priestesses of Kurinth did the same. She donned the shirt, quietly hoping Benezia wouldn't think it inappropriate. 

The steps she took to the matriarch's room felt heavier than usual, Isa's voice whispering like a ghost in the back of her mind. Why had her mother been taken so suddenly? It was cruel, after Terach had gone so slowly, his letters sent to her post until he finally passed in his sleep. There had been time to say everything she wanted to, no matter how painful the knowledge of his coming death had been.

But she had no idea what she would have said to her mother. That they loved each other was never in question, but Inaya had been fiercely independent and raised her to be the same, their lives lived on separate planes. Her father was the one who escorted her to school, who took her to doctor's appointments and athletic competitions, teaching her to ignore the looks an elcor received for acting like he was a citizen on Thessia. Terach was one of very few immigrants permitted past the endless bureaucracy of the planet's borders and allowed to stay with any permanency. Her father said that it humbled him, but Shiala remembered the remarks, the stares silently asking where her mother was. It was simply practicality; Terach was long retired from the military. He had time his bondmate didn't expect to see for centuries.

"Shiala?"

Her eyes widened slightly, realizing Benezia was standing right in front of her. Had she really knocked without thinking, not even recognizing when the door opened?

" _Auma_." She forced a smile. "I just wanted to apologize for not being at dinner. Time slipped away from me."

"Shiala." Beyond the matriarch's exhaustion, she saw bemusement. "It was Farizah's cooking, not a muster. I just wanted to make sure you were alright after Aethyta struck you."

"I'm fine." Her fingers gingerly touched her lip, surprised it hadn't split open again during her session with the bag. "Nothing's broken."

"Why don't you join me, then?" Benezia smiled. "I was just having a little wine before I went to bed. Liara's been asleep."

Despite feeling her pulse skip a beat, she nodded and passed the threshold into Benezia's room. A dark bottle and a half-full glass were waiting on the table inside, but she watched the older asari open a small cabinet beneath to pull out another glass. Liara's crib was indeed silent, the tiny form concealed beneath a light blue blanket lost to slumber.

"Water, Shiala?"

She nodded, no matter how tempting the wine suddenly looked. "Please."

Sitting down across from the wine, she briefly glanced out the window, looking for the faint shimmer of the kinetic barrier. It was there, melded with the glass, the only light outside held by the orbs hanging in the garden. Beyond the walls there was only darkness, the pale glow of stars in the sky.

"You look tired." Benezia set the glass of water down in front of her, filled nearly to the brim. "You don't have to stay if you don't want to."

Picking up the glass, she took a slow sip. "It's not fatigue."

"Oh?" The matriarch's brow raised. "You look...pale."

It should have been easy to stay silent. She'd had centuries of practice with quiet, whether it was stifling her own footsteps or standing perfectly still at attention. Benezia's smile was warm, tinged with concern. How could something so simple complicate everything else?

"My mother died last night." 

The words felt foreign on her tongue, like she had just spoken gibberish, but the sudden shock in Benezia's expression made it clear she was heard.

"Shiala." The matriarch set the wine down with a soft clink of glass on wood. "What happened?"

She swallowed past a dry throat, fingers tensing around her own glass. "A stroke. The autopsy's already been done."

"Where was she?" Benezia asked softly.

"Dekunna." Shiala's eyes flickered to the bottle of wine. "To see my father."

The next confession made her feel like someone had filled her throat with glass. Even the thought burned, the relentless combination of humilation and guilt cutting deep. How had she been so thoughtless, dismissed the sign offered from Benezia's own lips?

"I didn't call the day you asked me to." She said hoarsely.

The matriarch's hand was warm as it gently clutched her own, which had instinctively turned into a fist. 

"You attended me every hour I was pregnant with Liara, Shiala." Benezia's fingers squeezed, just enough for her to feel the pressure. "I kept you from Inaya."

"It was my decision." Shiala's jaw tensed. "I'm a soldier, not a slave."

"I know." The matriarch carefully switched their glasses, replacing water for wine.

"Exchanging cups?" She said wryly.

"It's usually not wine for water," Benezia said softly, "But it looks like you could use it."

Shiala picked up the glass and took a small sip. There was a heavy undercurrent of spice, the tang of fruit in the dark wine. It was heady on her tongue, having avoided indulgence for so long. The wine served during Janiris was light and nearly clear, made from a plant that could only be pressed during spring.

"When my father died, my mother told me to stay at my post. I'd just been assigned there a few weeks before; I was still learning how to wear my stripes."

Shiala took another slow sip, using it as a brief excuse for silence. She'd never told this to anyone before, and it had been almost three hundred years. Her mother had been approached nine hundred, and she'd never considered the idea of losing her. Even with the wine in hand, she felt foolish.

"She said that I'd taken an oath, and that my duty to Thessia came first, that Terach would feel the same way. So she forbade me to leave."

Benezia's brow knit in concern. "Did you?"

She offered a small, weak smile. "No. I was of age, I could have easily overridden her wishes, but she was my mother. I didn't see his memorial until we were given leave for the holidays a few months later."

"You never told anyone he died?" The matriarch asked.

Shiala shook her head. "My superior officer figured it out fairly quickly. She made me take a week of leave and said she'd bust me back to basic if I showed my face before then."

"But you didn't go to see him." Benezia said softly.

She idled again with the wine, musing at the irony. "I got stumbling drunk and spent that entire week at a pleasure house. It's a miracle they pitied me in such a state. I spent almost my entire month's stipend there until I couldn't stand under the weight of the hangover."

A small gesture was made with the glass, the taste still on her tongue. 

"I was angry and grieving, but that morning I woke up and realized that my father would be ashamed of such a lack of discipline. So I stopped drinking, completely. After a hundred years, I decided that Janiris was...appropriate. It was the only occasion I ever saw my mother with a glass in her hand."

"I didn't intend to force you to-" Benezia hesitated.

"No." She took another sip. "I was looking at the bottle the moment I walked in. I just didn't have the courage to ask for it. Thank you."

"You're not in the military anymore, Shiala." The matriarch's thumb gently brushed over her knuckles. "You can have all the time you need."

"I'm not going to Dekunna. The arrangements are already made."

"And here, at home?" Benezia asked, brow raised. "Will you tell me everything is settled so quickly?"

She set the glass down with a soft clink, biting the inside of her lip. Lying was so simple, yet it had never come easily to her.

"My mother's estate needs to be seen to."

"Then see to it." The older asari offered a kind smile. "I can't send you back to basic, but I'm sure I could persuade Musahir to loom over your shoulder until you cooperate."

A quiet laugh left her lips, tempered by the muted start of a sob. She never cried; not since Terach had passed.

"And to think, she might not stop talking about skyball until I lose my mind." 

Benezia's smile widened a little. "Quite possibly."

Shiala nodded. "I'll go in the morning. New Alara's a short flight."

"Make all the arrangements you need." The matriarch's hand finally released hers. "Your duty to family is greater, Shiala. More than any assignment, any work I might have."

She felt words rising to her lips, intent to disagree, but the thought left her exhausted.

"Yes, _auma_. Thank you."

"Go to bed." Benezia moved to stand. "I should before Liara decides to intervene."

She stood as well, habitually brushing the small wrinkles from her shirt. "I'll give Musa standing orders before I leave, but if you need anything-"

"I know you would run across the continent itself to come back to me."

The matriarch's words surprised her a little, but she nodded again.

"Good night, Shiala." Benezia said.

It felt like a fraction of the weight had been lifted from her chest.

"Good night."


	6. Chapter 6

_"You honor us by taking this oath, to protect Thessia and its colonies, to defeat all her enemies at home and abroad. Do you accept this commission, offered to you in the name of High Command?"_

_"I do."_

  
Her military uniform was still pristine. The silver captain's bars were polished to a sheen on one black shoulder, the tab marking her as special forces on the other. Shiala resisted the urge to run her fingers over the familiar fabric; it was clear her mother had taken pains to care for it, despite her absence.

The entire room was built like a shrine. It had been her bedroom once, centuries ago, but after she joined the military, Inaya had converted it into a space to store everything Shiala owned. She had lived on base and preferred to stay as mobile as possible, so she appreciated knowing everything was kept safe.

There were medals and pins she hadn't seen in decades kept behind dust-repellant glass, a pistol cast in gold from when she'd won a service-wide marksmanship competition. Every artifact looked untouched, the display slowly tracing her life backwards. Past the army paraphernalia began a line of shelves heavy with trophies.

One of those Shiala briefly touched, her thumb running over the carved plaque. She had started training as a gymnast just a few years into primary school, encouraged by her father, who found himself with a child full of incessant energy and few outlets in a quiet house. Her mother had forbidden her to touch a weapon until she was fully of age, so the sport had been her saving grace.

It had been brutal, almost wonderfully so. Shiala couldn't imagine having half the endurance she did as a soldier without the constant drills in the gym, the coaches that pushed her to every imaginable physical limit. Joining the army had shaped her aggressively lean figure into one that could crack down a door without biotics, but she was hard-pressed to remember a mission that had stressed her as much as performing on the parallel bars and rings for an audience. While she knew some other species had a similar sport, the asari were the only ones to incorporate biotics into routines, which made it all the more exhausting.

The key was balancing both flair and style with the energy into the routine, all while only using a fraction to compensate for strength. Judges usually demanded that a gymnast performed their initial moves without biotics, ensuring that the contestant was capable of using the equipment by physical prowess alone.

Shiala glanced down at her hands, at palms grown smooth with time. There were a few calluses from weightlifting and the use of her pistol, but they had once felt like leather from constant wear. It made her itch to see what her body still remembered, but there was nothing in the house to practice on.

Opening the set of drawers beneath the trophies, she found colorful singlets, folded to display the emblem of each school. It was a surprise to see the bright fabrics hadn't faded after so long. A very faint smile curved her lips at the realization that she wouldn't fit into any of them anymore. While she had never grown particularly tall - much less compared to her mother - her shoulders and hips had broadened from her military career and matronhood respectively. It almost seemed like a blessing. While she had enjoyed competing and training, she didn't miss the debates about biotic-reflective fabric or if something was cut too low on her shoulders.

The drawer was closed with a soft click. Shiala continued to look around the room, at the few objects that comprised a memory of her childhood. There was a charm from the temple she had been born in, a picture taken when her markings first started to show, but little more. The toys and books she cherished in her youth were long gone, even the hard digitized copies of the vids she used to watch. She could close her eyes and remember her mother chastising her for purchasing so many war films with her allowance.

_"I pray you never know a real war and realize how much they glorify things."_

So far her mother had been proven right; except for being told her unit could be called to intervene in case of geth and quarian resistance spilling out near Council space during the Morning War, the galaxy had been fairly quiet during her life. Shiala knew her grandmother had lived through the Krogan Rebellions, but the matriarch had passed of heart complications shortly after her birth. It had been a hard millennia for every asari, even those who didn't fight in the direct conflict.

Shiala left the room as quietly as she had entered, the constantly recycled air of the room giving way to remnants of Inaya's perfume, a scent that lingered in every hallway of the house. She felt a subtle tug in her chest at the reminder that her father's presence was entirely absent. He had worn a cologne that reminded her of the salt in the ocean, mixing with the softer flower scents her mother preferred to wear.

Now they were both gone.

She had grown up in this place knowing silence, little more than the sounds of cooking in the evening or Inaya's holopen sketching across a screen upstairs, but it had never felt empty before. There was an absence in every room she walked past, shadows cast over everything her mother had owned. Was this a matriarch's legacy, to have a daughter return home far too late?

There were documents upstairs she had already looked over, proof of the will and deeds to the property. Everything here belonged to her, as if she had the first idea what to do with it. She was halfway considering allowing Isa to stay there without expense, but she imagined there would be other assignments the matron would want to take, more than likely far enough to make the commute a burden.

The living room was starting to grow dark as she walked past the threshold, the sun slowly falling below the horizon. Shiala hadn't been aware of so much time passing, but there was no way to tell without a warning, without her mother calling her inside.

There was only one holo on the mantle, the false fire beneath it turned off. She picked up the frame, watching the picture inside it brighten.

Inaya was clad in celebratory purple, crest decorated with silver rings, and offering the photographer a broad smile. Terach was beside her in white, the fabric encompassing his front legs and the length of his back etched with gold, as was traditional for elcor weddings. Sigils for good luck had been painted on both of his shoulders, with a matching bracelet around her mother's wrist. Shiala had never seen a day pass where Inaya was without that bracelet, even after her father died.

The tears that came were unexpected, burning hotly down her face. One of them fell onto the holo, which briefly flickered before she returned it to the mantle. Shiala sniffled before a sob wracked her throat, the tension in her chest becoming almost unbearable. Each sound that left her seemed louder than the last, eyes squeezed shut as though it would somehow prevent her from crying. She had managed to stop herself in front of Benezia, but it was impossible here, when there was no one to chide her, nothing to return the steel to her spine.

It hurt by the time it was over, her throat raw, a faint ache in her temples warning of an oncoming headache. Shiala wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, but it did little when her entire face was a mess. Retreating from the living room to the kitchen, she turned on the sink and started to wash up, drinking some water from her cupped palm to try and assuage the dry state of her throat. It took a few moments before she could breathe through her nose again, wiping her face and hands dry with a towel.

Shiala leaned back against the stone-topped counter, taking just a little while longer to keep her eyes closed and breathe. Eventually her heartbeat began to slow, and when she let her eyes open again, the kitchen was almost pitch black. Running her fingers over the nearby panel, the lights came to life in the ceiling.

She was tired of being alone.

\---

Benezia was in the living room when she returned, reading to Liara from a datapad carefully positioned in her lap. The girl fussed slightly at the matriarch's breast, but even at so young, Shiala saw Liara's eyes centered on the bright screen, curious. She tried not to let the sight make her heart ache again, wondering if her mother had done the exact same. Inaya must have, once.

"How was the flight?" Benezia asked softly.

"Quiet." She said, hoping the signs of crying weren't still visible on her face. "The country looks beautiful this time of year."

"Come sit." The matriarch gestured to the couch. "You can hear the end of _Athame's Voyage to the Stars_."

Shiala offered a faint smile. "Well, it is a classic."

She sat on the opposite cushion, watching as Liara glanced her way with bright blue eyes. Benezia began to read again, reading each rhyming passage with a practiced rhythm. Liara slowly began to turn in her arms, and had fallen fast asleep by the time Athame gathered all her companions and blessed the asari.

The matriarch turned off the datapad and set it aside, gaze centering on Shiala.

"I've decided I'm going to wait before returning to politics and negotiating." Benezia looked slightly weary, but also somewhat relieved. "I want my house to be in order. Liara isn't old enough to walk yet, and it seems unfair to leave her care to some of my acolytes in my absence, at least this early."

"How long?" Shiala asked.

Benezia's head canted slightly. "When you and I have both known a few moments of peace before we go back into the fray, I think."

She shook her head. "Don't delay on my account, _auma_."

"It's on everyone's account, Shiala. But you also deserve time to grieve, even if you think you don't need it."

Benezia stood, cradling Liara against her chest. "Go get some rest. In the morning, we'll see to planning things."

Shiala nodded faintly, watching as the matriarch walked and began to ascend up the stairs. When the door to Benezia's bedroom closed, the living room was quiet. Nonetheless, the air was still warm with life, the familiar scents of leather and incense giving proof to the residents there.

It might not have been peace, but it was the closest she'd ever known.


	7. Chapter 7

  
**[2080 CE]**

  
"What's traffic looking like?" Shiala asked.

  
Her hand swept over the holographic table in front of her, drawing up a full grid of Armali's capital and the path they would be taking to get to the conference hall. Bright red symbols marked areas of significant risk, primarily freeways andlanding zones. Pania's Steps, the marble arena that comprised the hall, was highlighted in gold. It could all be reached by skycar, but that had its own set of complications.

  
"Nothing unusual." A gesture of Jinan's hand added another layer of scans, showing silver pulse points where there was significant slowdown. "It's an hour from the hotel, barring something on the level of a twelve skycar accident."

  
"I want alternate routes in both navigation systems just in case." Shiala said, downloading the grid's data to her omnitool before shutting it off.

  
Musahir appeared in the doorway, looking slightly flush with sweat. Armali's summers were always brutal, and this year was no exception. The red-marked commando wiped her brow before moving to wash both hands, dark with grease, in the nearby kitchen sink.

  
"The cars are checked. Everything's running just fine." Musahir started to dry her hands, looking briefly irked at the size of the hotel towels. The gold icon monogrammed on it didn't do any favors. "No explosives, no bugs, nothing's cracked, leaking, or needs to be cleaned."

  
Shiala nodded. "And Liara's room?"

  
"It's swept." Jinan replied. "I'll be point for the first half of the day, then I'll trade off with Musa. A paired guard will be kept with Liara and the acolytes until Benezia returns."

  
Turning around and dropping to one knee, Shiala cracked open a heavy case behind her, revealing a small armory. Benezia had been finding weapons even more distasteful since her daughter's birth, but they were a necessity. Biotics ran on a commando's energy and even just one broken arm could make them nearly useless.

  
She assembled a pistol from one of the kits in a matter of seconds, fingers wandering over a few different clips before she chose the warp rounds. While the incendiary technically caused more damage, they were still on Thessia. Everyone in attendance with Benezia could be considered armed and armored with a gesture. The clip slid in with a soft click, the frame briefly glowing blue before it dimmed. At least she didn't have to bother with concealed carry; all licensed security was permitted a sidearm at the conference, as long as it was inspected.

  
"I want hourly reports." The pistol was locked into its holster, her thumb carefully positioning the quick-release switch. "There's been plenty of attention since Benezia announced she was returning to the political stage with a daughter. Enough that there could be a credible threat, some point in the future."

  
Jinan nodded. "Trust me. I'll be cloaked and ready."

  
Shiala offered a small smile. "I know you will."

  
Benezia emerged from the bedroom, a vision in grey and silver. The fabric was woven in one seamless piece, the metallic accents highlighting the flare of the matriarch's hips, the curve of breasts that were covered but still prominent. The traditionally bare line of Benezia's throat was decorated with a simple necklace, the light etching on the metal matching a pair of bracelets around each wrist. It was considered excessive for a matriarch to decorate her crest, so it was left as it was, without color or jewelry.

  
Her own leathers had been polished to a sheen, the formal cut chosen with the T'Soni crest on both shoulders and silver bars on the collar to mark her rank as captain, offering just enough flare to match Benezia's outfit. The rest of the unit simply wore the crest; as much as it concerned the matriarch to be surrounded by so many armed soldiers, what house they served was a matter of prestige and honor, and Benezia wouldn't deny it to them.

  
Farizah appeared just seconds later, her hand gently grasping Liara's. The girl looked at the assembled party with wide eyes, taking in the sheen of metal and leather, the smiles that tugged at even hardened soldiers' mouths when she approached. Each step still held a bit of a stumble, but Liara managed with the firm grip on Farizah's fingers to keep her stable.

  
"Everything's prepared, _auma_." Shiala said.

  
Jinan pointedly slid a rifle into the holster on her back, putting it out of Liara's view before approaching, dropping to one knee in front of the girl. "You'll be with Farizah and I tonight, little one. Is that alright?"

  
"Ji-nan." Liara put a long emphasis on the first syllable. "Carry."

  
The commando chuckled softly. "I can't, Liara. I have to go invisible."

  
With a quirk of a dark brow, Jinan activated her cloak. Liara's eyes widened even more, followed by a soft gasp. Farizah's lips pursed, but Benezia smiled faintly at the sight. It was even more effective a trick when Jinan could keep her footsteps completely silent, walking to her perch to keep a constant view on the windows. Shiala heard the soft click of the younger matron's rifle, still concealed from Liara. An infiltrator at her best.

  
"Is there anything else, Shiala?" Benezia asked, gaze cast downward at her daughter.

  
"No." She shook her head. "We have the guard split between you and Liara. The skycar is swept. We can be there in an hour."

  
The matriarch brought up her omnitool, checking the time. "I'd like to arrive a little early."

  
Shiala nodded. "Whenever you wish."

  
It was then that Benezia turned, lowering herself carefully to the floor. The dress was a halo of grey, the hem nearly pressing against Liara's feet.

  
"I love you, little wing." The matriarch pressed a soft kiss to the girl's brow. "You'll be good for Farizah, won't you?"

  
"Uh-huh." Liara said.

  
Shiala was slightly startled by the look Benezia cast over one shoulder at her. There was a longing, a flicker of pain. The last month had been taxing on them both as they prepared, the matriarch restless to return to her work, but anxious at the thought of leaving Liara for the first time. Tonight, however, was a summit of Thessia's most powerful elite, held once every decade in total discretion. To miss it would set Benezia's influence back for years, dealing a significant political blow. Taking Liara with them wasn't an option, not with the potential distraction. Knowing that, however, hadn't seemed to have made it any easier on the matriarch.

  
Standing up perfectly straight, Benezia gently cupped Liara's cheek, looking up at Farizah.

  
"Call if there's anything you need."

  
"Of course, _auma_." Farizah replied. "But we have it all in hand."

  
"I know." The matriarch's hand finally returned to her side. "Shiala."

  
She knew the old weight of the matriarch's tone, gaze shifting to the commandos standing at attention. "Eyes everywhere. All threats are immediately reported to me. Weapons are a last resort; there will be plenty of others in the crossfire. Barriers first."

  
"Yes, captain." They answered in unison.

  
She canted her head towards the door. "Fall out."

  
Benezia followed them without another word and she took her place four steps behind the matriarch. Liara's bright gaze followed them until the hotel room door closed, the lock immediately engaging.

  
This early in the evening, the sun's warmth still hadn't left the air, even if there was an occasional chill from a passing breeze. Shiala slid into the driver's seat, watching as Benezia took the place beside her, the engine starting with a soft hum once the control panel came to life under her hands.

  
"She'll be safe." Shiala said quietly.

  
Benezia's eyes flickered to the privacy screen, a pane of soundproof glass that seperated them from the other commandos in the back seat.

  
"I know." The matriarch replied. "I trust all of you with my life and with hers. But I...had expected the circumstances to be different."

  
Shiala nodded, the skycar rising from the platform before she tapped the accelerator, sending them into the flow of traffic. Their route was projected on a small screen near her hand, although she'd already memorized it.

  
"You'll be the talk of the evening." She said with a faint smile. "I know at least one guildmistress who's been languishing without your advice."

  
Benezia smiled in turn, gratefully acknowledging the distraction. "More than one, I would hope. I was pleasantly surprised when my invitation was followed with several holo-calls ensuring that I'd be attending."

  
"From who?" Shiala risked a little more pressure on the accelerator. It seemed a shame for years of evasive driving experience to go to waste. She hated traffic.

  
"Justicar Kifa. The younger, not her mother. Matriarch Cala. Even General T'Siir and her bondmate."

  
"That's a good sign, isn't it?" She asked.

  
"Very." Benezia carefully adjusted one bracelet. "Although I'm glad I'm not responsible for any of the opening speeches this year."

  
Small talk had never been Shiala's forte by any means, but she could manage at times. It seemed like enough to ask simple questions as she kept her eyes on the road, allowing brief glances to her right to see most of the energy had returned to Benezia's demeanor, focusing on the summit to come instead of Liara. That was the balance; the matriarch was more than capable of protecting herself and her daughter with biotics alone, but Benezia could only be in so many places at once. Any distraction pulled away from the greater cause, especially when it came to an evening like this.

  
Pania's Steps was a massive construction, the marble over three thousand years old and worn smooth with generations of wind and footsteps. It had originally been an arena for competitive games, slowly adapted over time for the use of political gatherings and conventions. Jagged lines of gold and silver cut through the pale stone, a decorative measure to fuse the cracks the walls had taken over time together. From the exterior, nothing was modern, save for the skycar platforms layered alongside it.

  
One swipe of Benezia's omnitool lit up the parking terminal, marking where their space was when the invitation code was accepted. Shiala landed dead center on the platform, killing the engine the moment the magnetic lock engaged. Both commandos in the back emerged first, hands on their weapons, but after a moment, one gestured and Shiala exited the skycar, mindful of any sudden movement.

  
When everything seemed clear, she rapped her knuckles on Benezia's door, who stepped out with a patient smile.

  
"Is there anything you need before we step inside, _auma_?" Shiala asked. "The second car will be here momentarily to keep the perimeter."

  
Benezia shook her head, bright eyes focusing on the arena. "No. Just pray for a productive evening."

  
A few soft chuckles left the commandos' lips, followed by knowing nods. Benezia turned and started to lead them towards the base of the titanic staircase, lit on each side with carved spheres powered by filtered element zero. The blue light was warm and familiar as they ascended, finding themselves met by a pair of guards and an usher at the peak.

  
"Matriarch Benezia, it's an honor." The usher was in clad in gold and white, matching the curved arch above them. "May I see your invitation?"

  
Benezia raised her arm, the usher moving a small scanner over the omnitool projection. The device let out a soft chime and the younger asari took a step back, out of the path to the doors.

  
"Thank you." She smiled. "Have a wonderful evening."

  
While the actual arena still served its purpose, hosting skyball games and any number of international sports tournaments, it was the hall encircling the field that had become a social catalyst. It was enclosed, with vaulted ceilings and wide enough for a unit to walk arm in arm inside it, making room for thousands of asari. At a summit like this, Shiala knew most matriarchs would make dozens of circuits throughout the evening, seeking out various factions and what entertainment was to be had. Wine flowed freely from several different bars, each hosted by a guild intending to make their mark.

  
It would be a very long night.  
  



	8. Chapter 8

"Shiala! How long has it been?"  
  
Ayla’s fingers tightly grasped her forearm before finally letting go. A familiar splash of white markings were paired with the older commando’s smile, whose leathers were just like her own, save the crest.  
  
"Five years, I believe." She answered with a small smile of her own. "The Serrice Guildhall for Janiris."  
  
Ayla nodded. “Right. Blink and the years go by.”  
  
"Do you still work for the guildmistress?" She asked.  
  
"Mmhmm." The white-marked commando canted her head to the right. "She’s just diagonal there. You know the drill. We look like we can hold a proper conversation while they decide the fate of Thessia."  
  
Shiala briefly glanced where Ayla had gestured, immediately catching sight of Guildmistress Cantara, who was resplendent in gold with a rather daring cut that exposed most of her back. Some priestesses wore the same to show ritual tattoos, but the matriarch was revealing violet markings instead, the patterning in sharp stripes and swirls. She couldn’t be sure whether or not they were real, but the effect was striking.

  
A few others milled around the area in the same cloth of gold style, but they kept their distance from Cantara. It was expected that matriarchs would have some form of entourage, but inappropriate to be surrounded by them at an event like this. The night was focused on cooperation and negotiating old rivalries, not being supported by younger asari who would cling to every word whispered.

  
Benezia was several meters away, deep in conversation with General T’Siir. The general was in usual austere form, wearing the pitch black command uniform with the only symbol of rank in half a dozen platinum bands around well-muscled arms. Shiala knew for a fact T’Siir had enough medals to weigh down a dreadnaught, but she’d only seen them once years ago, at a ceremony dedicating a shrine to Kurinth.  
  
"Did she really have a daughter?" Ayla asked, disturbing her casual scanning of the crowd.  
  
Her lips pursed. “Yes. She’s almost three.”  
  
"I didn’t quite believe it when Cantara mentioned it the other night." The older asari shrugged.  
  
"You don’t read the news?" The remark was wry, mildly irritated. "The media attention has been nothing short of ridiculous. Private terminal numbers seem to be a thing of the past."  
  
Ayla scoffed. “They are. I told Cantara to install a signal scrambler and it didn’t work longer than a week.”  
  
"Mind if we cut in?"  
  
A pair of commandos had approached from the right, dressed in the same leathers that cut a dark swathe through the hall. The first was native-blooded by her face, lacking any markings at all, but the one who had spoken had a bright blue pattern dappled across slate-colored skin. There weren’t many volus-blooded on Thessia.  
  
"There’s room for everyone." Ayla said, gesturing. "Were you two told you were crowding?"  
  
"As to be expected." The other commando answered, extending one arm to Ayla. "I’m Ianthe."  
  
Shiala took Ianthe’s arm when it was offered in turn, admittedly surprised at the strength of the soldier’s grip. “Are you from Armali?”  
  
A very faint smile curved Ianthe’s lips. “Is it so obvious? I’m with the snipers.”  
  
"That explains the grip." Her brow rose. "Have they improved on the implants to let you use the Widow?"  
  
"She tells me they just breed them that way in the country." The blue-marked commando chuckled. "I’m Thara."  
  
"Shiala." She answered with a slight bow of her head. "Who are you two attending tonight?"  
  
"General T’Siir invited me as an honor to my battalion." Thara canted her head back towards the older asari. "I’ve been with the marine special forces for three centuries. We just earned a commendation for our work at the Krogan DMZ."  
  
"I just came for the credits." Ianthe said dryly. "Matriarch Karida needed an attendant and this assignment is very well-paid."  
  
Alya let out a soft laugh. “Don’t tell me they don’t pay you for being part of one of the most prestigious units on Thessia.”  
  
"They do, but we’re not needed as often as you might think." Ianthe’s focus seemed to be fixed at a point over Shiala’s shoulder. "So I have a few retainers."  
  
A glance back over her shoulder revealed the target of Ianthe’s attentions. Matriarch Karida was standing a few steps behind her, speaking in a low tone to a CEO from one of Serrice’s most wealthy companies. The matriarch was sinking under the burden of age; if Shiala recalled correctly, Karida was at the end of eleven hundred years. Already light blue skin had paled to a shade nearing grey, the strength of a steely spine showing symptoms of giving away entirely.  
  
Shiala returned her attention to the others, lips pursing. “Is she back in the business sector?”  
  
"No, not for decades." Ianthe shrugged. "But she likes to still put her ideas out on the floor."  
  
"The general asked my opinion on all this and I didn’t know what the right answer was." Thara muttered. "I’ve never seen so many matriarchs in my life."  
  
"Stay in the military, then." Ayla smirked. "Most of you don’t live that long."  
  
Thara returned the smirk with a grin of her own. “Well, that is one benefit.”  
  
"Excuse me." Shiala said, noting that Benezia was stepping away from the general. "It looks like I have some attending of my own to do."  
  
She was used to weaving through crowds, despite the circuitous loops of waitresses and other bodyguards that turned the curving hall into a maze. A few steps put her in pace with Benezia, who seemed to be in a fair mood. The near-empty glass of wine in one hand may have been an influence, but Shiala knew the older asari enjoyed General T’Siir’s company. Benezia had a broad circle of those who could be considered ‘friends’, like most matriarchs, but with little influence in military matters, speaking with a soldier was more pleasure than politicking.  
  
"Zaina asked about you." Benezia noted softly, using the general’s first name in a far more familiar fashion than Shiala would dare. "Apparently her daughter just enlisted in the army and was hoping you would talk her out of it before she goes to basic."  
  
Despite herself, she couldn’t help a smile. “And join the marines instead?”  
  
"It is family tradition."  
  
"Too bad I didn’t keep all of my old paperwork." Shiala shook her head. "I could have her up to her neck in datapads."  
  
"Do you miss it at all?" Benezia asked.  
  
"The military?"  
  
She had to take a moment to think about it, keeping in step with Benezia as the matriarch squeezed past an impromptu performance. A guild of dancers had found a few rival musicians and decided to impress passersby. Seeing one of the lithe dancers bounce into a back handspring like it was second nature, Shiala let out a soft sigh when the landing was perfect, with barely a sound on the ancient floor. There were some things she did miss.  
  
"I appreciate the training it gave me." She pulled her attention away from the crowd. "It taught me to respect rank and leadership, but being an officer was either boring or endless bureaucracy when there was a task at hand."  
  
"And this isn’t endless bureaucracy?" Benezia gestured to their surroundings, clearly bemused. "Every conversation here could happen on a vidline."  
  
Shiala shrugged. “I wasn’t going to say it.”  
  
"I know it’s tiresome." A passing waitress took the empty glass from the matriarch’s hand. "At least our egos cater to the arts and sciences."  
  
Her brow knit. “I meant no insult, _auma_.”  
  
"None was taken, Shiala." Benezia smiled. "It would be nice if our forums were a little more…down to earth at times. Tradition will out."  
  
"I’m not opposed to ritual." She murmured, wishing she hadn’t spoken at all. There was a reason she had no political ambitions.  
  
"Let me indulge in another glass and we can make the final loop." The matriarch paused in front of one of the bars, looking over the casks with guild seals on display. "The closing speech is in less than an hour."  
  
"Of course." Shiala said, watching as a fluted glass was filled near to the brim. Every vinter was generous on a night like this.  
  
There was a flicker in the corner of her vision; the familiar length of a steel barrel.  
  
"Get down!" She shouted.  
  
Glass shattered all around her as Benezia’s biotics flared. A white-hot throb of pain staggered her as she reached for her pistol, raising it to fire back. The shot had been through a palm-size window in one of the service doors, concealing the assailant entirely from view. Shiala took a breath and squeezed the trigger twice, both bullets passing cleanly through the frame. There was no shout, no sound of contact but the slugs embedding themselves in a wall. The crowd had turned into a blur of movement, screams of fear and the cacophony of footsteps drowning out the heavy sound of her pulse inside her skull.  
  
Her curse was choked off by a wet sound, suddenly finding it hard to breathe. Drawing in a ragged gasp and reaching for her throat, Shiala felt blood trying to force its way past her fingers, the warm ichor already soaking the front of her leathers.  
  
Benezia stood in a bright blur, crackling with energy. Shiala tried to gesture for the matriarch to kneel back down, but her arm trembled as she felt the strength going out of her legs. She fumbled to holster her pistol before she collapsed, both hands applying pressure to the ragged wound. It wasn’t the first time she’d been shot; she just had to stay awake.  
  
 _Steady. Stay fucking steady, Na’tar._ Her old commander’s voice echoed in her thoughts as she dropped to one knee, watching the room spin. Blood dribbled past her lips, leaving her mouth heavy with the taste of iron.  
  
"Get…out." She wheezed, hoping Benezia would hear. The matriarch couldn’t be near her, not with the risk of the assassin returning. They were exposed in the middle of the floor, surrounded by a halo of glass where trays and drinks had been abandoned out of panic.  
  
Darkness flared around the edges of her vision as she kept trying to breathe, hearing someone yell. The words were unintelligible until Shiala felt herself being encouraged to lay down by a set of unfamilar hands. A circle of asari stood around her, the T’Soni crest a nearly indecipherable mess of color on their shoulders. Benezia’s tone was fierce with anger. Who was holding her down?  
  
Her arms were drawn to her sides, eyes widening as she tried to claw her hands back into place. Someone was holding her still, but then something cool was pressed against her throat, the edges sticking to her skin. Shiala saw the faint flash of a syringe, absently feeling the pierce of the needle with her next breath. That she could draw breath at all gave her strength, even it was a wet, desperate gurgle.  
  
Forcing herself to stay calm, her eyes focused on a single light embedded in the ceiling, trying to imagine it breaking down. The heat, the energy, all of it was part of the air and spirit. So was her blood, so was her body. As long as there was air and light, she was still alive.  
  
"The bullet nicked an artery." Shiala didn’t know the voice, but the words made it past the haze of pain. "I’ve stopped the bleeding, but she needs to be evacced. Now."  
  
"I’ll drive." That tone she knew - Musahir. "That fucking ambulance isn’t going to get here in time with every matriarch on Thessia riding hell for leather out of traffic."  
  
"Unless your skycar has oxygen and typed blood prepped, she could go into shock during the ride. I know it’s difficult, but we have to wait."  
  
"Lady Benezia!" Musahir growled. "You’re trusting her with-"  
  
"Dr. T’Fel has been practicing medicine for seven hundred years." The matriarch snapped. "Can you do better?"  
  
"No. No, ma’am." Musahir said softly.  
  
"Be-nez-ia," Shiala choked out each syllable, wishing she could summon the strength to sit up. A screech of sirens was approaching from far in the distance, but the matriarch couldn’t be here. What if a killer had gone for Liara too?  
  
"Don’t speak." Benezia’s face came into her limited field of vision, the tension of anger suddenly washed away with concern. "I’m fine, Shiala. Everyone else is fine."  
  
The fingers that gently cupped her jaw were slick with blood, the all-too-familiar shine of blue. It had to be her own, if Benezia was unharmed.  
  
"Breathe." The matriarch said, barely above a whisper. "Stay with me."  
  
She heard the massive doors leading into the hall open with a groan of steel and stone. Benezia’s gaze flickered upward as there was the hasty approach of footsteps, the hand against her cheek suddenly pulling away.  
  
Without that warmth, Shiala’s eyes fluttered closed. Her entire body felt cold. The blunt edges of a mask were fit against her face, making her wince until she tasted clean oxygen. It left her dizzy even as she wheezed, trying to draw in more.  
  
Then the world went black.


	9. Chapter 9

Shiala sat up in bed with a groan, one hand going immediately to her neck. The thick medical patch was still there, sealed over a careful line of stitches. It scratched whenever she swallowed, but the risk of infection was still too high for her to remove it. Dr. T'Fel had warned that if she disturbed the healing process, recovering outside of the hospital would no longer be an option. Nonetheless, the doctor seemed convinced that the wound would close without a scar, although Shiala couldn't be entirely sure of that.

It had only been two nights, and she'd seen the medical scans, the proof of metallic fragments lodged in the back of her throat. Only centimeters of flesh had kept the bullet from burrowing right into her spine, causing death or paralysis. Asari medicine was some of the finest in the galaxy, but any injury to the spinal cord was always asking for complications. The taste of blood had been a heavy weight on her tongue for hours, compounded by the ache behind her eyes from staring too long into the light above.

As irritating as being confined to bed rest for a week was, it was far from her only concern. As soon as she could speak, she had contacted the police, asking for a copy of the crime scene report. While leaning on Benezia's reputation wasn't something Shiala ever liked to do, it had been the only way to get ahold of the files. All the effort had come to almost naught as she'd read in the darkness of her room; the pistol was completely generic, as was the ammunition. It could be matched with in-depth scans if the weapon in question was found, but every soldier on the continent probably had a similar model in their locker.

There had been no sign of the assassin the entire night she'd been unconscious, nor the day after. With forty-eight hours gone by, an enterprising killer could have easily been far from Thessia, even out past the edge of the colonies. With security scattered during the evacuation after the shot, no one had caught sight of anyone suspicious, keeping even a cursory sketch from being made.

When Shiala had demanded access to the video footage, straining her voice to its limit, the detective she spoke with finally admitted that a thirty second loop had been running on all security feeds before the entire log was remotely wiped. Those watching the cameras had been bored or immersed in their own conversations; she was promised they had been summarily fired by the company, but it was little consolation. She didn't care about being shot, it was the fact that someone had tried to kill Benezia and no one had the first clue who.

That part of the report had at least been telling. The upward angle of the bullet was precisely calculated, displayed on the datapad she'd fallen asleep next to. If Benezia hadn't moved, if she hadn't stepped into the crossfire, the shot would have struck the matriarch right between the eyes. Instead she had been just close enough, lucky enough, that it had struck high on her throat, embedding itself in flesh instead of bone.

Her omnitool buzzed quietly on her wrist. She had turned off the sound after her morning alarm left her wincing. Reaching for the water at her bedside, Shiala hastily gulped it down before bringing up her wrist and tapping a key to accept the call.

Aethyta's face was a brief blur on the projected screen, the matriarch's teeth bared in anger.

"Someone pick up the fu-" The older asari hesitated. "Finally. It's been two fucking days."

Shiala's brow knit. Benezia had mentioned something about turning off her private terminal last night; large incidents always drew both intense media attention and hacking attempts, and she had assumed Aethyta would have the other asari's omnitool number. Had Benezia changed it without telling anyone?

"I've only been awake the last day or so." Shiala cleared some of the hoarseness from her throat. "Is there something you need?"

The matriarch frowned, anger temporarily blunted by surprise. "You were the one who got shot?"

Shiala's hand went to her throat, keeping her expression still. "I'm surprised the media feeds didn't release my name."

"They just said a commando was taken down keeping Matriarch Benezia from being killed." Aethyta shook her head. "She won't pick up my calls. I was about to break into the damn house again."

"That would have been ill-advised." Shiala's thumb brushed over the patch. "But I don't believe she's taking anyone's calls at present."

"Then tell me what the hell happened. They didn't say if it was just her or..." There was a brief hesitation, a flicker of pain. "...the kid. Or what."

"Liara's fine." Shifting under the sheets, Shiala was suddenly reminded she was entirely naked. Much as Aethyta probably wouldn't care, it left her feeling even more off-balance than before. "She didn't see anything."

"Everyone else on the hunt for who did this, then?" Aethyta asked.

"There's nothing, Aethyta." Shiala let her elbow press against her knee, taking the weight of the omnitool off her shoulder. Her entire body ached. "No footage. No witnesses. And as far as I can tell, the police aren't interested in interrogating every matriarch who was there. Only Benezia and Dr. T'Fel gave statements."

"T'Fel? The surgeon?"

"She kept me from bleeding out until the paramedics arrived." Shiala let out a soft sigh, trying to gather her thoughts. "It had to be a professional. The security feeds were hacked, the shot was clean but unlucky. They used a generic weapon. I've been trying to make up a suspect list, but there were dozens of soldiers there. Beyond that, there were plenty of asari who've had conflicts with Benezia, and all of them have the credits to pay for a hit."

"What about your second?" Aethyta frowned. "Who'd you have in my place? They had to have seen something."

She bit the inside of her lip. It would have been simple to lie, but she had never been particularly good at it. "I didn't have one."

The rage that had cooled in the matriarch's expression immediately resurfaced. "What?"

"I didn't...have anyone." Shiala's eyes flickered downward. "The unit was already split to watch over Liara. I didn't want to weaken the perimeter."

The excuse was pathetic and she was all too aware. What did the perimeter matter when a killer had simply shot through the door? A second set of eyes might have caught sight of something other than the pistol; they would have been immediately able to give chase regardless of her injury.

"You haven't brought on anyone else since I left?" Aethyta snapped. "What happened after you were shot?"

Shiala's blood chilled with embarrassment. It was a rare sensation; she didn't put much stock in pride, but persistence and excellence were what had been drilled into her for centuries. The entire night had been a series of mistakes, any of which could have cost Benezia her life.

"I have to trust anyone new, Aethyta. It took me years to form the unit we have now, you know that." She said weakly.

"You're not answering my question." The matriarch growled.

"I fell after I was shot. Everything was chaos." Shiala closed her eyes. "Benezia was standing over me. She wouldn't leave no matter what I said. Everyone was arguing because T'Fel wanted to wait for the ambulance to come."

"She was still there?" Aethyta's teeth clenched. "Why wasn't she evacuated?"

"I don't know!" Shiala choked out the words, feeling her throat seize. The coughing fit that followed left everything inside her feeling raw. "The unit's kept their distance since I woke up. They know the contract. They know they failed."

 "I trusted you to keep the fucking house in line, Shiala."

There was a sharp exhale. She didn't have to look to know the matriarch's hands were clenched into fists. The long pause that followed stung more than any curse; it had always been far easier to shoulder anger than humiliation. Shiala didn't know how to feel when she saw Aethyta's expression soften, the edge leaving the older asari's voice.

"At least you took the bullet."

"I'll always take the bullet." There was no way to conceal the rasp in her tone. "You know that."

"Yes, I know. Goddess." Aethyta hissed under her breath. "At least Nezzy's not running circles around _you_."

The emphasis made Shiala bite back a wince. She remembered her own blood in a streak down Musahir's face when she'd returned to consciousness, saw the ruined leathers the red-marked matron kept clutched like a talisman. While she didn't consider everyone in the unit to be a close friend - it was difficult for her to use the word, even in the best of circumstances - they had built a bond after decades serving the same house. To see every soldier under her command hesitate, fail to follow the orders that had been agreed on long ago if she was injured or incapable, was a blow she was still reeling from.

"I'll be speaking to everyone tomorrow and...making new arrangements. I don't accept failure, Aethyta."

The matriarch nodded. "I'll make some calls to see if I can get someone to cough up anything. They're just taking it as business as usual, aren't they?"

"It's not the first time someone's tried to assassinate Benezia. Every asari in power learns to expect it." Shiala felt the tug of tension in her shoulders as she slowly rolled them back. "But I'll find who did it, with or without the police."

"Wait until you're healed." Aethyta's lips pursed. "I won't lie and say I'm not pissed off, but don't go killing yourself over this. Just keep Nezzy at home."

Shiala let out another soft cough. "If I have to crack the engine block in the skycar, I will."

A chuckle left Aethyta's lips. "You would."

"So would you." Shiala muttered. "She just wouldn't catch me doing it."

"Good to see getting shot hasn't killed your confidence." Aethyta mused. "Keep me updated and I'll do the same."

She nodded sharply before the screen went blank. The time shone brightly in the corner of the display; half the day was gone and she'd done nothing but sleep. After lowering her wrist, Shiala picked up the datapad that had slipped underneath the sheets, bringing up the list of names she'd compiled. Benezia had centuries of grudges and rivalries to keep track of, many of which could resurface at a moment's notice, but the matriarch had been withdrawn from most circles since becoming pregnant with Liara. For a strike to come at the first event where Benezia reemerged was either unfortunate coincidence or a startling precision.

Shiala drew her fingers across each name, matching them to the faces in the crowd just before she was shot. The matriarchs she could all pinpoint, even the younger of the guildmistresses, but too many of the commandos were strangers. The internal rosters of most houses changed every few years, as better contracts or the idea of settling down seduced away the most experienced. While there was a great deal that could be divined from the extranet about the names she didn't know, it didn't replace police authority or a personal interview.

The soft click of her door sliding open made Shiala stiffen, her thumb sliding over the bottom of the datapad to blank the screen. Being lectured about rest was the last thing she wanted, even if reading wasn't strenuous. Dr. T'Fel had the best intentions in telling her to meditate and avoid stressful thoughts, but keeping both still and ignorant wasn't something she'd ever allow herself to do. One was aggravating enough.

Seeing Benezia instead of Musahir or Jinan made a fraction of the tension ease from her body. Guilt wracked her whenever she looked at the matriarch, but it was better to bear that now, easier than placing on a mask of command. The older asari's steps were quiet, feet bare across the polished floor. A loose white shift and trousers made a remarkably casual outfit for the matriarch, but such simple comforts had always been few and far between in a house built on such a powerful reputation.

" _Auma_." Shiala set the datapad on her bedside table. "Is there something you need?"

"I came in here to ask the same thing." Benezia offered a small smile. "I heard you shout a moment ago."

Warmth rose to her face. In the centuries she'd been alive, Aethyta had been the only person to consistently break her composure. Simple tactical arguments had turned into shouting more than once, occasionally coming close to blows. She trusted the older matriarch to have Benezia's best interests at heart, but that passion didn't always translate into the best strategy.

"Aethyta called. She was concerned because she hadn't heard from you." Shiala tasted a hint of blood on the back of her tongue. Perhaps some meditation would have been in order instead of straining her voice.

"And you had a disagreement?" Benezia moved to sit on the edge of the bed, keeping a polite distance from where her legs were tangled beneath the sheets.

"No." Shiala frowned. "She was justified in being angry with me."

The matriarch's lips tensed in a tight line. "With you?"

"There should have been a second set of eyes with you the entire night, _auma_. I-" Shiala hesitated, her fingers grasping at the sheets. "I failed you by assuming I could handle it myself, without someone taking Aeth--the other place."

For a moment Benezia almost looked amused, but behind the small smile, pain and fatigue were etched in the older asari's expression. "Nearly dying for my sake is not a failure, Shiala."

"That's always been a potential outcome." Shiala's frown deepened. "It shouldn't have happened at all. Losing you--failing you is never acceptable."

"Neither is your death." Benezia's voice had the same harsh edge the night she was shot, when Musahir made her impatience clear.

The matriarch reached to cup her cheek, the warmth of Benezia's palm reminding her that this was all too real. Rather than shying away, Shiala fought that first instinct to place her hand over the older asari's, forcing their eyes to meet. She would put steel in her words, in her gaze, if that was what it took for this to be settled.

"I am your guardian." Her fingers tensed against Benezia's. "You must let me perform my duties, no matter the risk."

A long silence followed until she felt those slender fingers fall slack beneath her own. Shiala loosed her grip, letting her hand drop back to the sheets. She shifted just an inch, feeling the edge of the headboard right against her nape.

Shiala held back the question on her tongue, wanting to ask what had changed between the last attempt and this one, but it was cruel to press the matter. Aethyta was gone. The answer was obvious.

"I cannot lose another so quickly." Benezia admitted quietly. "You've been in this house nearly a hundred years, Shiala."

"And nearly a hundred years ago, you promised that if there was a threat, you would allow yourself to be taken away."

The matriarch's jaw tightened visibly, but it was followed by a slow nod. "I did."

"Then please," she put a soft emphasis on the word, "Let me protect you. Liara would be devastated and...the galaxy would be lesser with your passing."

Benezia's dismay slowly faded into a smile. "And where would I be if a young commando hadn't broken into my hotel room?"

Shiala cleared her throat. No amount of time would keep that from sounding bizarre, even if it had been of her own design. "In need of a less impulsive head of security?"

Hearing the older asari laugh made her smile in turn.

"I suppose so." Benezia rose to stand, smoothing down the front of the pale shift. "While I have great respect for Dr. T'Fel's opinion, I know being confined to bed doesn't suit you. As long as you stay to the proscribed diet, I don't see the harm if you join the house for dinner."

Shiala nodded. "Thank you, _auma_."

Benezia's smile widened. "It'll be at the usual hour. I just lay Liara down for a nap."

When then door closed behind the matriarch's soft footsteps, Shiala pushed the sheets away, carefully stretching out some of the stiffness in her limbs. She'd have to change the dressing on her throat after using the shower, but the idea of showing her face downstairs still bleary with sleep was far from appealing. Even with the house aware of her state, showing weakness wasn't appropriate, not when the unit still had to be disciplined.

Her lips pursed as she reached to turn on the water. She never liked to flash rank over those in her command, rewarding the self-control she expected from experienced soldiers with a good deal of autonomy. It was rare for her to have to give more than a cursory reminder to the other commandos, not when they knew every maneuver by rote. Or so she had believed.

Stepping beneath the warm spray made her breath catch as the heat soaked into her skin, starting to work into rigid muscle. Use of her biotics were forbidden as well as any sort of exercise, which T'Fel had defined as more than a brisk walk. The knowledge left her stifled, restless, but she would ensure that her point was made in the morning, even if it was a risk in her condition.

If someone else wished to be captain, they could take the right from her the proper way.


	10. Chapter 10

The air in the garden was humid, thick with the scent of dying flowers.

Most plants on Thessia adapted to the seasons with a harsh cycle of hibernation in the winter and shedding down to the roots in summer, flourishing in a cascade of color before leaves and petals alike began to rot from the branch. Under the devastating weight of the sun's rays, Shiala stood in uniform, the thick black collar obscuring the patch over her throat. Sweat gathered at the base of her nape, the heat of her body desperate to escape the tight grip of full-bodied leather.

The unit was in three rows, standing rigid. Every commando were dressed as she was, silently enduring as they had since dawn. She could keep them there until the afternoon if she wished, watching for any signs of flinching or weakness. It was downright mild compared to the trials she'd undergone to become a special forces officer, like dropped in the middle of the sea and expected to survive until reaching land. Her mouth hadn't lost the taste of salt for weeks, skin split open from the sun only to have been made raw again by the chill of the night.

Enough silence had passed for the time being.

"Is there anyone here who has forgotten the details of their contract?" Shiala asked, her eyes searching for a reaction. "If so, speak now."

A few jaws tensed in the line, but no confessions were forthcoming. Musahir was statue-still, as if she hadn't spoken at all. This was the one allowance she'd give for an honest mistake, but her only answer was the soft whistle of a breeze through a set of chimes hanging from the gazebo behind them. They were Benezia's set, carved from a thin sort of stone only found in ocean caves. Shiala was usually fond of the sound; less so, today.

"Is there anyone who would like to forswear their oath?" She turned on her heel, starting to walk from the end of one row to the other. "None of you are enslaved to this house. You can leave with severance at any time."

Shiala watched sweat trickle down Jinan's brow, but the younger asari remained motionless, ignoring her state even as it began to drip into her eyes. Not a single soldier had blinked at the second question, but tension was palpable through the entire unit, like something waiting to burst forth.

"Then who will explain to me why Lady Benezia was not evacuated from Pania's Steps after I was shot?"

She came to a halt, leveling every asari under her command with a hardened glare. It was only a fraction of her rage, her disappointment, but as their captain, self-control was her primary concern. There were no other ranks in the household; her example was first and last.

"That was not a rhetorical question." She snapped. "If no one will answer, I consider all of your loyalties to be fraudulent. Everyone here can be dismissed and replaced."

"Captain-" Musahir began, inclining her head. "You were injured. Lady Benezia...ordered us to stay until the medics arrived."

"My injury was irrelevant to your duties. Every soldier here was hired because I personally chose you, because I believed you could adapt to any situation, to protect her no matter the cost or consequence." Shiala shook her head. "She was surrounded by broken glass and blood. There was an assassin outside our custody who had just opened fire. Not one of you attempted to have her removed. In cases of life and death, my orders stand above hers. It has always been so."

Over decades in the service and even longer as a commando, Shiala had seen all manner of punishments exacted out on wayward soldiers. Outside the traditional military frame, some organizations, especially those working near the Terminus, considered beatings to be a regular consequence of keeping discipline. Others used pay cuts or held enough ranks to make severing stripes a significant blow. She had always believed in those that were driven, the most dedicated, that shame was more effective than anything else. And it was shame had reflected in every face when she'd ordered them awake in the dark, making it clear that the _atanma_ and Benezia both were to stay peacefully asleep.

That was the reason Shiala knew she had made the right choices all those years ago. Musahir and Jinan were from companies that rivaled the Irregulars, both incredibly competent in their fields, for whom honor held a real meaning. They shared the traits she'd eventually sought from everyone else, scouting barracks and garrisons until she had a full-blown force, with specialists in almost every major field - covert reconnaissance, hacking, explosives, hostage negotiation, and varied styles of guerrilla warfare. Aethyta had teased her for it once, asking if she was planning on guarding the house or assaulting High Command's front door.

They would have been prepared for both, technically.

"Is there anything I've missed?" Her eyes swept the line again. Even the chimes had gone quiet. "Tomorrow morning, everyone here will swear their oaths again to Lady Benezia. If you don't appear, I'll take that as your resignation. And if anything of this nature happens again, this unit will be dissolved. Am I understood?"

Then, there were nods, although most of the commandos kept their heads inclined like Musahir's. Along with the murmurs of 'yes, captain', she was satisfied. At least, as much satisfaction as could be found in such an undoing.

"Dismissed!"

Despite the rasp edging her voice, the tone of the order was not mistaken. The entire unit turned to leave, but she caught Musahir's arm before the red-marked matron could stray more than a few steps.

"Not you." Shiala said.

Musahir couldn't quite conceal a wince. "If I spoke out of turn-"

She frowned, releasing her grip. "No, far from it. I asked, and you were the only one who summoned the will to speak. Unless you believe I made the wrong decision."

"No." The other matron shook her head. "I'm sorry I failed you."

"We both failed Lady Benezia." Shiala glanced over Musahir's shoulder, waiting for the last of the commandos to enter the house. "I'm appointing you as my second, if you're willing. With Aethyta gone, we've been weakened, and I cannot go on without another set of eyes and hands directly by my side."

Musahir's eyes widen. "With all due respect, why would you choose me?"

A fraction of a smile made its way to her lips. "You're the best close-quarters fighter in the unit. It's a good counterpoint to my range."

The surprise faded, replaced by concern. "I'm not the best. You've defeated me far too many times for that to be true."

"I've spent a fair deal of time honing techniques to get around your formidable guard, Musa. Our enemy will not have such an advantage."

Shiala leaned forward until their brows touched, keeping the contact gentle.

"If it had been you laying there in blood, I would have returned the moment she was safe. I would never leave you behind, even if it meant carrying you out myself."

Musahir's smile was small, but genuine. "You're a better soldier than I."

Shiala felt her heart briefly seize in her chest, reaching to cup the red-marked matron's nape with the utmost care. "And you, a better friend."

They stood there for a moment beneath the sun in silence, eyes closed. Shiala could admit words often failed her in the best of times, but in this case, the lack of them seemed appropriate.

When they broke apart, Musahir's smile had widened considerably. "I accept, by whatever honor I have left to scrape together. What must be done?"

"Nothing today." Shiala resisted the urge to tug at the clasp of her leathers, to offer her body some relief. "Tomorrow we'll go over the old plans Aethyta and I had together, and then we'll make some new ones."

Musahir nodded sharply. "That I can do."

Shiala rapped one leather-clad shoulder.  "Get yourself out of these. Maybe I'll come up with more by dinner."

"I'll count on that, captain."

With a chuckle, Musahir turned on her heel and began to walk towards the house. Shiala watched carefully until she was out of view to cringe, burdened by a wave of dizziness. The sun and heat had taken a quicker toll than expected, leaving her throat dry and head spinning. While the other commandos still ate heartily at Benezia's table, her diet had been restricted to little more than fortified broth until the stitches were gone. It had left her endurance clearly lacking.

Once the worst of it passed, Shiala straightened and went back to the front door. It closed behind her with a soft click, the cool air of the house making the sweat beneath her uniform that much more obvious. She yanked down the zipper at her nape, allowing some of the heat gathered there to escape. A few slow breaths steadied her enough to walk, but she made it only a step before Benezia passed into view.

"Shiala." The matriarch approached her with quick steps, surprisingly unaccompanied. It was late enough in the morning that all the acolytes should have risen, busying

themselves throughout the house. Farizah was usually a fixture at Benezia's side by then. "How long have you been out there?"

"Since dawn." She cleared her throat, not expecting the hoarse edge in her words to be so thick. "It was a simple matter, _auma_. Nothing of concern."

"Sit down." Benezia said, face unreadable.

There was no doubt it was an order, and Shiala immediately took a seat on the living room couch, feeling a sudden weight descend on her shoulders. The dizziness returned in full force, black spots dancing on the edge of her vision as the dull taste of blood rose up her throat. Benezia was across from her in one long blink, slender fingers tilting up her chin.

"You're ashen. Shaking." The matriarch frowned deeply. "You shouldn't have left your bed."

"Enough-" Shiala heard the word roughly catch in her throat. "Enough time had passed already. They had to know what was necessary...or replace me if they disagreed."

"No one is replacing you unless you struggle your way into the grave." The subtle pressure against her chin withdrew. "The sooner you rest, the sooner you return to my side."

She fought the urge to protest, the fact that Benezia was more vulnerable than before branding itself in her thoughts. Even now, they were both separated from Liara, who was just as much at risk.

"I ask your permission to hire two more to the unit, _auma_." Shiala kept her words barely above a whisper to avoid further strain. "There are not enough of us here to keep you and your daughter safe."

"Granted." Benezia sat down across from her, allowing their eyes to meet. "But disregard Dr. T'Fel's generosity again and I will hire a nurse to keep you bound to bed until everything is healed."

Shiala bowed her head. "My apologies."

"I want your promise, not your apology." The matriarch said firmly.

"I swear it." Her jaw tensed as the dizziness had become a steady, painful throbbing in the back of her skull. "I'll rest."

"Good." The sigh that left Benezia's lips almost sounded wistful. "I'll send up water and a meal for you in a little while. The chefs were rather concerned when half the house was absent for breakfast."

Shiala was thankful that the older asari didn't ask if she needed assistance up the stairs, despite the sharp tremble she felt in her limbs. Her dignity was threadbare enough. Despite the extensive medical expertise to be found throughout Thessia, there was only so much healing that could be rushed. She knew how much blood she had lost before the ambulance arrived; enough that the transfusions could have put her into shock all over again.

None of this knowledge left her any less frustrated with the weakness in her frame, the way she had to wrench herself out of her leathers, relieved to be free of their restriction. A shower would have been her next priority, but with the risk of precarious balance, it seemed to be asking for even more trouble. The sheets were cool enough against her skin, and she slipped beneath them, waiting for her heartbeat to slow.

Even left in peace, sleep resisted her call, chased away by the sounds of the house in motion. Letting out a soft growl of discontent, Shiala reached for the bedside table, grabbing a blank datapad from the depths of the drawer. She turned on her side and started typing on the projected keyboard with one hand, starting a list of hiring qualifications. While she would have to interview any potential soldiers in person, denied to her until she healed, there was nothing wrong with a bit of preemptive work.

When the door to her room clicked open, Shiala slid the datapad beneath the sheet, turning to sit up. Civa, one of the maidens who served in the kitchen, carried a tray laden down with a large glass of water and an even larger bowl, the latter of which had swirls of steam emanating from it.

"Would you like this at the desk or here, Shiala?"

"Here is fine, thank you." She said.

Even in the near-darkness of her quarters, Civa easily sidestepped the edges of the furniture and carefully lay the tray onto her lap. The dark broth was thick, with enough spice to prick Shiala's nose, and when she idly stirred with the spoon, there were bones gathered at the bottom of the bowl. Despite her ill temperment, she couldn't help a small smile. It was a dish meant for winter, but one of her favorites in any season.

"Did Lady Benezia believe I would keep still if the broth was better?" Shiala asked wryly.

Civa blushed, silent for a long moment. "It takes more than a day to make in the traditional style."

Noting the maiden's purposeful avoidance of the question, she simply nodded and tried a bit from the spoon. Her eyes widened a little. "It's very good. Thank her and the chef for me...unless you were the one who made it?"

"No-" Civa shook her head, cheeks remaining a darker shade of blue. "I just helped prepare."

It was rare for her to speak with any of Benezia's household help, but Civa was young and dedicated, from a rural province like her mother. Musahir had warned that the maiden desired her, which Shiala scarcely believed, but the other commando had bid her to give Civa some slack, as it were. If her attentions, however brief, pleased the younger asari, then she wouldn't challenge it. Offering them felt better than wallowing in her own frustration and rage.

"I've made this with my own hands before, with my mother's help." She took another sip of the broth. "The preparation is far more difficult than simply watching it cook. So it's much appreciated."

"You're welcome." Shiala could swear Civa's voice had gone up half an octave. "I should get back to the kitchens."

"Of course." She inclined her head.

For a maiden without a day of combat in her life, Civa's retreat was fairly graceful. Shiala felt a touch guilty for the teasing, but it had put her in a livelier mood. She ate with gusto until only crumbled bones, absent the marrow, were left at the bottom of the bowl. The tray was set aside along with the emptied glass; despite the temptation to take it down herself, Benezia's orders had been clear.

Settling back against the headboard, Shiala placed the datapad up on one raised thigh, scrolling down the notes she'd made. A loop through the various capitals would hopefully result in some candidates, although more and more commando companies were forming off Thessia. There was only so much room per capita when units offered the same services, and many groups who had evolved from pre-Republic militias held onto generational contracts with an iron grip.

Frowning, she reached for the other datapad where she kept the crime scene reports saved. It was lodged under a pillow, displaced by her movement in the morning. Letting it rest against her other thigh, Shiala compared the suspect list to the list of active units she planned on scouting. There was plenty of crossover, as to be expected when most matriarchs were inclined to city or suburban life rather than the edges of civilization.

If she was going to have to leave Benezia under Musahir's guard anyway, perhaps she could see both tasks accomplished at once. Shiala brought up her omnitool and quickly charted a path from Serrice out to the other major cities. It wouldn't leave her with much sleep, but it was possible to make the rounds in a timely manner.

When the glow of the omnitool faded from her wrist, Shiala moved the datapads out of her way and turned back on her side. Healing would come with as much rest as she could force herself to endure, as much as she loathed to do so.

Content with the plan being formed, slumber came with surprising ease, albeit not a peaceful one. Fractured images akin to fever dreams flooded her mind, one blurring to the next. Benezia's voice wove through them like a cool thread, the echo of the matriarch's words whispered to her until the dawn came once more.  



	11. Chapter 11

**[2081 CE]**  
  
"There's no new evidence, Shiala. Our investigation-"  
  
"Your investigation ended months ago." Shiala fought to keep her tone level. "I'm just asking for the files you have, Phera."  
  
The detective's image was static for a moment, the younger asari mulling over her demand. She usually wouldn't be having this sort of conversation on skycar comms, but the hotel room she'd rented didn't have a secure enough line. Through the colorful projection of Phera's white-marked face, the exterior readings warned her it was twenty degrees below freezing. Winter had seized the continent with a vengeance, although it was worse up here in the north. Back in Serrice, the snow was fleeting, the ice too thin to bear any weight.  
  
"Phera? It must be bad if I'm getting the nickname."  
  
Shiala glanced back at the vidscreen. "You always hated Pherusa."  
  
"Because my mother was a drunk with no taste for names." Phera sighed. "You're asking for a hell of a favor. If a line of these reports hits the media, my badge is gone and you know it."  
  
"That might not be a bad thing." Shiala said lightly. "I thought you'd tire of the police after a decade, much less Homicide."  
  
The other asari raised a brow. "How much action are you getting as Benezia's bodyguard, exactly? Neither of us are busting down a lot of doors these days."  
  
Shiala looked outside her window. The skycar lot was still empty. "More than you'd expect."  
  
Phera's shoulders slumped slightly in defeat. "Alright. I can send what we compiled on the attack except internal correspondence. What my unit figured out is one thing, but interdepartmental memos go up to the top brass."  
  
"Thank you." She held in a sigh of relief. "You know I appreciate it."  
  
"I guess it only took me a hundred years to pay you back for Chalkhos."  
  
Shiala's mouth tensed into a tight line. The operation there had been one of her last as a commando, and one of the worst. Just because going to the the Terminus automatically came with hazard pay didn't make it worth it. Chalkhos was a haven for drug producers and raiders, a group of which had drawn the attention of their clients. When the Irregulars deployed, she'd been told to expect an in-and-out drop.  
  
Their target was an asari named Rhanis, who had a habit of employing underage maidens as smugglers and couriers. The mercenaries Rhanis kept in reserve had been easy enough to handle, but everything had gone to pieces when one of the maidens set the warehouse they were in - and herself - aflame. Most of the warehouse was dedicated to backup equipment for the various hothouses Rhanis had built around Chalkhos, including generator fuel and fertilizer.  
  
While she escaped with only minor burns, Phera had been right near one of the canisters when it exploded, and the thick fuel had clung like napalm to the matron's armor, nearly fusing it to her skin. Shiala had reacted in seconds with a barrier, the biotic field sealing Phera's body off from oxygen to kill the fire, but plenty of damage was already done by the time she carried the other commando out of the ruins of the warehouse. Two of Phera's fingers had been severed by superheated shrapnel and weren't recovered; both had been replaced with synthetics when they returned to Thessia.  
  
"You don't owe me anything for Chalkhos, Phera." She said firmly. "You never have."  
  
The detective shook her head. "The gratitude's mine to give. I'll get everything forwarded to your omnitool."  
  
Shiala bit her tongue, fighting the urge to tell the other matron not to bother. She needed all the information that was available to continue her own investigation, but digging up someone's private hell to ensure it hadn't been in the plan. Phera wouldn't take her apology, leaving her with few options but to change the subject.  
  
"If you do know anyone who does want to get off the beat, I have two spaces on Matriarch Benezia's roster I'm trying to fill. Preferably someone who's experienced with children."  
  
Phera canted her head slightly. "My partner might actually fit that bill. She was a social worker before she joined the force. Got tired of handing daughters back over to their mothers only to check up on a dead kid a year later."  
  
"And now she's tired of the conviction rate?" Shiala asked.  
  
The other asari shrugged. "Seems like it's getting that way. She sweeps the marksman awards every summer, though. Great head on her shoulders."  
  
Shiala brought up another panel on the console, setting it to run search parameters. "What's her name?"  
  
"Lieutenant Ephyra Sekas." Phera said.  
  
"Sekas?" Shiala typed the name in with one hand.  
  
"Yeah, she's an islander. The accent only comes out after a couple rounds of beer, though."  
  
The whirr of another skycar engine snapped her attention out the window. When the driver's door rose, revealing a tall asari with violet eyes, Shiala quickly closed the panel, her fingers moving to the comm beacon.  
  
"I have to go, Phera. Talk to your partner for me."  
  
Before the detective could answer, Shiala ended the call, watching as the asari - Taisa T'Vorr, if her intel was correct - started to go into the apartment building across the lot. The complex didn't have any security to speak of, but she waited ten seconds before getting out of the skycar, making sure the commando wasn't keeping any company. Her pistol weighed heavily against the inside of her jacket, loaded with warp ammunition; the caliber was a step up from what she usually carried, but she didn't have a dozen guns behind her as backup here.  
  
Shiala went up the elevator in absolute silence. She'd scouted the hall a few hours before, checking the outside of the apartment listed on Taisa's lease. It was the third lease in as many months, with each one in a different part of Armali. Nothing had stood out as particularly unusual about the location, but being able to hide in plain sight was one of the things that had made Benezia's would-be assassin so effective.  
  
With one hand on her pistol, she pressed the other against the comm button next to Taisa's place. A soft chime answered, followed by a few seconds of silence. When footsteps approached from the other side of the door, Shiala stilled, listening for the telltale sound of a safety being taken off. There was nothing, yet.  
  
There was a burst of static, the voice that answered chopped up by the cheap speaker. "What is it?"  
  
Without a badge like Phera's, she didn't have the authority to demand entrance, but she did have some room to lie. "I have a few questions about a former employer of yours, Ms. T'Vorr. Would you mind speaking with me?"  
  
The next thing she heard was glass shattering. Shiala slammed her fist into the entry panel, but it was still locked, the light flickering red. Something else broke - a window by the sound of it - and her biotics flared before she shoved her fingers into the tight groove of the doorway, jaw clenching tight as she started to pry the door open, inch by inch. The hydraulics strained against every shove, but another burst of energy brought it to the halfway point, enough for her to slip through.  
  
A split second scan of the interior revealed a nearly-empty apartment; a mattress on the floor, a row of bottles near the sink, and a table laden down with guns, some of which had been knocked onto the floor during Taisa's flight outside the large back window. After knocking out the rest of the glass with one sleeve, Shiala took a breath and catapulted herself through the frame. She'd have enough to explain later without a sliced-up face.  
  
The impact radiated through her entire body as her boots slammed into the concrete of the causeway below, but she was up and running on the exhale. Taisa was a hundred feet ahead, sprinting like a champion, but despite the small armory upstairs, the other asari didn't seem to have a weapon in hand. Shiala grunted as she forced herself faster; it had been too long since she'd had to dash at full speed, and the notion of being out of practice didn't sit well.  
  
In any chase, there were a hundred factors to account for; distance and speed mattered, of course, but it was the obstacles in any given path that really made a difference. When Taisa stumbled on a slick patch of ice, Shiala couldn't help a small smile. This was probably going to hurt a bit.  
  
Charging had never been her specialty, but it was a technique that was hard to forget. As soon as her biotics crackled around her body, she shot forward in the blink of an eye, slamming directly into the other asari. Her arms wrapped around Taisa's torso, keeping the commando from slipping free before they hit the icy ground. Even braced for it, Shiala felt the oxygen forced from her body, the burn in her lungs as she sucked in a breath.  
  
Taisa was limp as a ragdoll when Shiala flipped the commando onto her back, blood trickling from a split lip, a laceration near the crest. She drew her pistol and pressed the barrel against the other asari's throat, one knee forcing her weight onto Taisa's sternum as she waited for the daze of the impact to fade.  
  
"Don't-" The first word was choked, blue flecks painting the other commando's teeth. "Don't kill me."  
  
"I wasn't planning to." Shiala said, although her thumb had already flicked off the safety. "But you shouldn't have run."  
  
"I'll pay back my debt." Taisa coughed. "I've been trying to save the credits for months-"  
  
Shiala canted her head, wondering if hitting the ice had given the other asari a concussion or worse. "Your debt?"  
  
"You...wait." The other asari's brow knit. "I remember you. You were the one who got shot. How-"  
  
After another low gurgle, Shiala raised her knee a little; T'Vorr drew in a grateful, if labored, breath. "I was. Now tell me who pulled the trigger."  
  
Violet eyes grew wide. "I don't know."  
  
"Then why did you run away from me?" Shiala snapped.  
  
"I owe so much money. I thought you were one of their goons at first, coming to take it out of my hide." Taisa's smile was pained, afraid. "The night of the summit, I had...a job to start paying it back. Just escorting, nothing special. But none of my weapons are licensed anymore. I haven't had the damn credits."  
  
The commando turned her head to spit out a gob of blood. "The cops were questioning everyone who carried a gun. I ran...and then I kept running. I thought if I got far enough, I could save and get off Thessia. Away from the debt and whatever clusterfuck happened that got a bullet in your neck."  
  
"Who do you owe?"  
  
Taisa gulped down another breath and shook her head. "No way in hell. If you found me, they will soon enough. I'm not a rat."  
  
Shiala shifted the pistol to the other asari's chin, eyes narrowing. "If they were responsible for taking that shot, I am going to hunt them down. If you cooperate, you can get up and run to your next hole in the wall, but if you don't, I'll be escorting you to the police station along with every gun in that apartment. By the time you're processed, I'm sure whoever you owe will have decided you're too much of a risk to be kept in custody."  
  
"They'll fucking murder me." Taisa choked. "It wasn't them. It's...a vice guild. All their fights are internal. They don't have any reason to go after Benezia."  
  
There were only a handful of guilds licensed on Thessia to run gambling houses, the kind that racked up life-ending debt. Any other company would rather sue to recoup their losses, but casino guild moguls kept their legal aides busy enough with regulations and creative accounting. Sending a mercenary to rough someone up cost a mere fraction of an asari lawyer's hourly bill, and it was a hell of a lot faster than litigation. Brutal as they tended to be, Shiala knew Benezia had never even spoken to the heads of those houses, much less had any business with them. This was a dead end, just like all the others.  
  
"What was it, Taisa? Cards or slots?"  
  
The commando squirmed under her in a panic, proving the guess had been right on the mark. "You can't say a word to them. Goddess, please, I'll do anything-"  
  
Shiala holstered her pistol, not sure whether to feel disgust or pity. She got to her feet slowly, mindful of the ice, and offered a hand to the other asari. Taisa looked at it for a moment like she expected a trick, but the commando eventually grasped at her fingers and found some balance on unsteady legs.  
  
"I looked into your background." Shiala said, hand dropping back to her side. "You served with the Serrice Guard, and you had scouting commendations. You were good. Good enough for me to believe you might have pulled the trigger."  
  
She wasn't prepared for tears to well up in Taisa's eyes, the reflexive jaw tense to try and conceal them. "I know."  
  
"Then do yourself a favor. Sell off all those guns and buy a ticket to Cyone."  
  
The commando wiped some of the blood from her mouth. "What's on Cyone?"  
  
"The capital has one of the best addiction clinics in asari space. They're a non-profit, so there's no cost. Maybe you can get your life back together."  
  
Taisa blinked. "Why do you even care?"  
  
She shouldn't have. Even with the threat of the guild hanging over the commando's head, her first instinct was to confiscate the weapons in the apartment and turn Taisa in. There was no way to ensure the other asari would bother to listen to her, much less that any credits earned wouldn't go straight to a betting table. But even standing in the middle of Armali, hundreds of miles away from Benezia, Shiala knew the matriarch would bid her to stay her hand, to offer some sort of mercy.  
  
"You're not the first soldier I've seen laying in a gutter. Usually there's not much I can do about it." Shiala plucked a sliver of glass from her jacket, holding it between two fingers before she looked Taisa right in the eye. "But if I find out later you had anything to do with what happened, you'll beg for Athame to take you before I track you down again."  
  
"I pity whoever the hell shot you." The commando shook her head. "If you did this just to find me."  
  
"I'd do a lot more than this." Shiala growled.  
  
"I can tell." Taisa tested the ice with a step forward, slowly crossing the patch. "Happy hunting."  
  
Shiala watched the other asari limp back across the causeway, heedless of the blood continuing to freely drip to the ground. She had no idea if Taisa would bother to take her advice, but there wasn't anything else to be done after giving it. A frigid wind kicked up around her, but the rest of the neighborhood was eerily quiet. It seemed no one had bothered to call the police about the commotion, and she certainly wouldn't be.  
  
By the time she got back to the skycar, she was feeling the full-body ache of the charge, the soreness that was starting to settle into her legs from the fall and breakneck sprint. A glance in the mirror revealed a few drops of blood had ended up on her face, which she quickly wiped away before bringing up her omnitool and tapping the second number on the call list.  
  
Musahir answered by the second ring, tone light and cheerful. "Shiala. How's the headhunting going?"  
  
"I spoke to a few candidates from the Sixth Fleet this morning. Unfortunately, none of them had any close protection experience." Shiala leaned back in the driver's seat, surprised by the temptation to close her eyes. "How about you?"  
  
"Benezia's leading biotic exercises in the yard for the priestesses. It's business as usual." There was a brief hesitation. "You sound out of breath."  
  
Shiala grimaced, glad that Musahir couldn't see that, at least. "I just ran some laps around the hotel."  
  
A laugh carried over the commline. "Goddess, I checked the weather in Armali this morning. Don't freeze off anything important."  
  
"I'll try not to." Shiala said, reaching to turn up the heat in the skycar. Frost was starting to close in on the windshield. "She's doing well?"  
  
"I haven't heard any complaints. Liara seems to have picked up a habit of walking off with her datapads in the last few days, though."  
  
That brought a faint smile to her lips. "Trying to get her mother's attention?"  
  
The other matron scoffed. "No, trying to sound out the damn words, if you can believe it. I know Benezia's been tutoring her in reading, but the kid's already wrapping her mouth around 'diversification of markets' and 'intellectual property'."  
  
"Would you expect anything less?" Shiala had always expected Liara would have her mother's fierce intelligence. Whether or not she also had her father's taste for a fight had yet to fall out. "I'm going to...head back inside, but I'll call tomorrow."  
  
"Three more days, right?" Musahir asked.  
  
"If everything goes as planned." Shiala said.  
  
"Alright. I'll leave you to it."  
  
The line closed without another word; Musahir shared her habit of forgetting to say goodbye. Shiala lowered her wrist and started up the engine, setting the navigation back to the hotel. Three more days would be three more cities, dozens of specialists to speak to and try and recruit. Taisa had been the last potential informant on her list regarding the attempted assassination; the others had answered her questions without much of a protest, but none of them had seen anything of note. If any of them had been the perpetrator or associated with the attack, they had done a fantastic job hiding it.  
  
There were a few names she hadn't been able to contact, but they were all deployed off Thessia and most of them had been for months. Shiala checked in with their commanding officers to be sure, none of which had reported anything unusual. While she fully intended to look over the extra reports Phera promised to send, it was hard to believe anything would come of it. It was like chasing a ghost.  
  
What concerned her the most was that she couldn't shake the feeling the shooter would try again. There was no proof to back up the claim, but Shiala felt it in her gut. Anyone good enough to wipe out the security cameras of the entire arena, to fire a perfect shot while hidden from view, wouldn't be dissuaded by something so simple as failure.  
  
She'd hoped the drive back would clear her head, but the sinking feeling didn't fade by the time she pulled into the lot. The receptionist in the lobby spared her a long stare when she walked in, but there hadn't been anything she could do to repair the damage to her jacket while still in the skycar. Shiala knew she already looked a bit out of place in the five star hotel, but Benezia had been insistent about the accomodations, even if she was dressed down for the sake of blending in.  
  
Her room was mercifully warm. Stripping off the jacket came with a twinge of muscle down the middle of her spine, but the shirt she was wearing had managed to stay intact. Shiala pulled it over her head anyway, turning to face the mirror on the back of the door.  
  
Bruises had already started to show around her ribs from where she'd collided with Taisa; charging without a hardsuit to take the impact always left a mark. While it ached, nothing appeared to be broken or in need of stitches. All of the blood on her pants belonged to the unfortunate commando.  
  
After a quick shower, Shiala put in a call for laundry service and a hot meal. If Benezia was going to force her to stay somewhere with gold on the fixtures, it seemed like a waste not to use what was already paid for. She had nothing but compliments for the service; her clothes were whisked away to be drycleaned in a matter of minutes, the food delivered shortly thereafter.  
  
By the time she finished eating, the fatigue had leeched into her bones. Taking a flight before dawn every morning was keeping her on schedule, but left little time for sleep, especially when most of the soldiers she spoke to about a job wanted to try her mettle at least once. It was to be expected; a weak captain would lead a weak unit, and there was no honor in that, but the struggle with Taisa had sapped the last of her reserves.  
  
Sleep took her the moment the lights dimmed. She didn't dream.  
  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

It wasn't quite yet dawn. Grey light crept through her window, warning the sun would soon be rising. Sprawled out beneath the sheets, Shiala's breath caught when she heard the quiet hiss of the door. There was no need to speak when she knew who was approaching on bare, nearly silent feet; she knew the number of steps between the threshold and the edge of the bed by heart.

Benezia said nothing, offered no explanation or directive, before Shiala felt the matriarch sit down by her legs, which were tangled in the trap of the bedding. Bright blue eyes pinned her like a knife through the heart, those dark lips curving in a smile, familiar and kind, but there was nothing familiar about the black swell of arousal that rose in Benezia’s gaze. Shiala choked down a sound as slender fingers trailed up over the sheets, leaving an echo of contact through the fabric as the distance closed between the older asari’s touch and her hips. Everything above them - her abdomen, muscles flexed with anticipation, the slight slope of her breasts - was already exposed to Benezia’s ardent stare.

A vibration along Shiala’s wrist broke the spell as she sat up in bed, fumbling to turn off the chime of her omnitool alarm. She had chosen the sound to be soothing, coaxing her carefully from slumber, but this was the third time in as many mornings that it tore her from a disorienting dream. The first had been the night she arrived home from her trip across the continent, ultimately coming home empty-handed in regards to both new commandos or an assassin. Lieutenant Sekas had promised to call during a free moment, but Shiala knew most members of the police force barely had time to sleep, much less seek out another job.

It could barely be considered a distraction next to the dreams, which carried the same startling similarity. She dismissed the first on account of jet lag from the express shuttle flight home; scattered sleep or odd dreams were common with such a visceral adjustment. After the second night, however, she’d gone to the trouble of brewing a cup of _anace_ tea, the same sort Farizah gave to young acolytes if it was their first time away from home or university. The blend of herbs were notorious for creating a deep, calm sleep, but it had been to no avail. Benezia was a persistent figure in the images, taking liberties like a lover.

Shiala squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before opening them, glancing out the window. The sun was higher than in her dream, already peeking above the horizon. She ran a hand experimentally down her stomach; the bruises from charging Taisa were nearly healed, the dappled violet color across her ribs retreating to a subtle, invisible ache. If she didn’t get moving, Benezia would be awake before she was dressed.

The thought sent a rush of heat up to Shiala’s face even as she kicked the sheets away. Clearly, she had been spending too much time focusing on the shooter, obsessing about who would attack the matriarch, if her mind was latching on to such a strange fantasy. They weren’t even about sex, per se, as she always woke up before Benezia could touch her, but the intimate charge was unmistakable.

If the day wasn’t already devoted to developing the matriarch’s upcoming schedule, Shiala would have eagerly locked herself in the gym, working off whatever excess energy was knocking her off-kilter, but there wasn’t time. Stepping into the bathroom and under the warm spray of the shower, the water began to work itself into the stiff line of her back as she considered the other alternatives. She rarely had to think about it; when lust wore at her focus in the past, it was always an uncentered need, a simple urge. Requesting an evening off once or twice a year and passing the responsibility to Aethyta allowed for a few hours in a pleasure house with a skilled partner, and she’d never required more.

Had five years passed so quickly? Five years since Benezia had broken her bracelet without warning, since the shadow of a difficult pregnancy weighed heavily on the matriarch. Each day since Liara’s birth had been fleeting as she tried to balance her new responsibilities, and while Musahir was now her second, the burden remained much unchanged. The idea of leave hadn’t even crossed her mind, save for the calm days that came by happenstance, the time that had been required to handle her mother’s affairs.

Setting her needs aside for so long was foolish. It was no wonder she was slipping, that irrational thoughts were working their way in. A quick check of her omnitool said she had ten minutes to spare, more if she ate breakfast with a bit of haste. Time enough, at least, to take the edge off so she could look Benezia in the face. She had never fantasized about a superior before, which was discomfiting on its own, but more so that the matriarch was more than simply her employer; Benezia had been both teacher and confidante over the years, and it was embarrassing to mar that quiet trust with something sordid.

Perhaps other asari wouldn’t think so, but Shiala had always drawn sharp boundaries when it came to respect and authority. It wasn’t a line she ever intended on crossing.

One hand dropped between her thighs as she closed her eyes, bracing herself against the wall of the shower with her other arm. She was already wet, although she refused to chase the thread of thought as to why. A few exploring strokes made Shiala grit her teeth; her hips were already jerking forward to meet the touch, all too eager. Centering her fingers on her clitoris brought as much tension as relief, each pass over the sensitive bud forcing a sound past the tight line of her mouth.

She didn’t fantasize. There wasn’t a need when the physical response was so visceral, heart hammering in her chest as she worked her fingers even faster. Imagining a partner complicated matters, urging her to outline the details of what they would be like; _eyes as blue as Nefrane ice, smooth hands that had never known the grip of a blade or rifle-_

Shiala cursed under her breath, eyes flying wide open to focus on the meaningless pattern of the tile in front of her rather than the image her mind had quickly conjured, much less how it would feel to have Benezia pressed flush against her back, one hand guiding her own, urging an even harder stroke. She bit down on her lip to silence a moan, oblivious to the brief flare of pain as the euphoria of release washed over her and sent a tremble down both thighs, the muscle flexed to keep her legs from buckling.

This was ridiculous. She could barely revel in the pleasure with her face burning bright from embarrassment, the tacit acknowledgement of how her desire had latched so easily to the matriarch’s image. After catching her breath beneath the steady stream of water, Shiala reached for the soap on the shelf, scrubbing herself clean in a deliberate, almost mechanical rhythm. Would that Aethyta was there to spar with in the gym; surely the older matriarch’s jealousy would have set her head on straight, if a few blows to the ribs didn’t.

Her omnitool buzzed as she washed the last of the lather away, and a brief look at the display revealed an unfamiliar number. Shiala rapped her knuckles against the control panel to turn off the water before accepting the call, ensuring it was set to audio only.

“Hello?” She stepped out of the stall and reached for a towel, averting her eyes from the mirror. Confirming the flush of arousal in her body wouldn’t really help whatever this was.

“Is this Captain Na’tar?” The voice was husky, accented, and unfamiliar. “My partner told me to give you a call.”

“Lieutenant Sekas.” Shiala let out a deep breath, grateful for the distraction. “Call me Shiala, please. I’m retired from the military, although Phera likes to remind me otherwise.”

“Then call me Ephyra. I’ll leave the ranks to the rest of the brass.” There was a creak over the line, like the pressure of elbows being placed against an old desk. “Phera said that you were looking for a bodyguard for...a child?”

Shiala hung the towel back on the rack before heading out of the bathroom and towards her closet. “Matriarch Benezia’s daughter, specifically. Everyone on my team is an expert at handling personal security for the household, but handling a child’s needs is different.”

“How old is she?” Ephyra asked.

“Four.” Shiala examined the set of leathers she’d pulled out, ensuring they didn’t need to be polished. “Old enough to not want to be carried everywhere anymore. It’s not ideal to keep my attention split between them both.”

“I wish I could say someone wouldn’t kidnap a four year old to make a point, but I know better.” A soft hiss followed, the sound of a seal being broken. “I don’t have any formal protection experience, though. I’ve done witness escorts and the like, but it’s been for a few days at the most.”

“I’m a lot more concerned about hiring someone who can properly handle a child in a crisis situation. Maneuvers and codes can be taught; empathy, not as such.”

Shiala didn’t mean to imply that anyone under her command lacked empathy, but they were all born and bred soldiers, and emotional costs ranked low on the list of priorities when it came to following their duties. Even without a daughter of her own, it was easy to imagine how terrifying it would be for Liara to experience an evacuation or firefight without having anyone that would prioritize her comfort first. She prayed that such a thing would never occur, but prayers didn’t deflect bullets or biotics.

Ephyra let out a soft sound of approval. “I can’t promise I’m what you’re looking for, but I’m planning on setting down the badge anyway. What would the next step be?”

Shiala tugged her leathers on, drawing the zipper up to her throat. “An interview in person. If you’re interested, I’ll see a ticket to Serrice is forwarded to you. Lodging and food would be covered for the length of your stay.”

The other asari chuckled. “Damn. That sounds like a paid vacation instead of an interview. I guess matriarchs don’t have to file expense reports.”

A small smile tugged at Shiala’s mouth. “With all respect, that expense is fairly minor compared to our paychecks.”

“Guess I’m not surprised.” Ephyra murmured. “I just ran a search and it looks like she could buy out the capital and still have some credits to spare.”

“You can expect the same benefits as you would with the force except for a pension, but there’s nothing stopping you from opening a retirement account.”

“The real benefit would be never having to file a homicide case report again.” The clatter of keys carried over the line. “I have plenty of vacation saved up. I could clear a week whenever the best time is for you.”

Shiala’s brow knit. Benezia had no engagements outside the house planned, at least until she finished getting dressed and spoke to the matriarch about the precautions they would need. If the date had to be switched, she’d alter Ephyra’s ticket or offer some compensation.

“This weekend would be fine. Bring something you don’t mind sweating in.” Shiala said.

Ephyra let out a soft laugh. “There’s a physical?”

“I prefer to call it a reflex test.”

“Now I know why Phera still treats you like you’re in the army.” There was a brief pause, then the click of more keys. “Alright. I put in the time off request.”

“Excellent.” If the interview went well, that was at least one burden off her shoulders. “You should receive the ticket confirmation by this evening.”

“Great.” Ephyra hesitated. “Thank you for giving me a shot. I hadn’t really put much thought into what I would do after I left. Phera just knows I’m tired of the grind.”

“I take her recommendations seriously. She was one of my best lieutenants.” Shiala said.

“I never got the commando urge myself, but she’s told me a lot about it. Sounds like feast or famine when it comes to a good day.”

Shiala frowned, glad the other asari couldn’t see it. “She’s not wrong.”

“I have to go file some paperwork to put my caseload on hold. Is there anything else you need from me?” Ephyra asked.

“No. I appreciate the call.” She jotted a quick note in her omnitool, a reminder to handle the logistics after her meeting with Benezia.

“No problem. Have a good day.”

The line closed and Shiala allowed the closet door to slide shut, hazarding a look in the mirror to ensure nothing was off center. She tugged her collar straight before buckling on her holster, sliding a new clip into her pistol once it was tightly in place. Benezia didn’t require anyone to be in full uniform when they were simply inside the house, but Shiala preferred it as a show of personal discipline. That seemed to be something she was in dire need of, if her dreams were any indication.

Breakfast was a quick affair after she slipped downstairs; the chef was puttering around with a much larger meal for the household, but graciously moved to allow her access to the fridge and some of the liquid protein in the upper cabinets. Shiala mixed it with some blended fruit and gulped down the contents before washing out the cup and abandoning it in the sink. Benezia occasionally chastised her more than once for not sitting down to a proper meal in the morning, but it was a lot less work and a lot more efficient. Anything she could make was better than field rations, anyway.

The matriarch’s bedroom door was open by the time Shiala returned upstairs, an open invitation to enter. Liara was sitting back against a stack of pillows when she crossed the threshold, tiny fingers gripping a datapad with the letters enlarged enough for a child to read beneath a series of bright illustrations. A look of supreme concentration was affixed on Liara’s face, but the younger asari looked up when she approached, offering a toothy smile. Shiala had noticed Liara was inclined to silence more often than not, but that didn’t mean a lack of youthful joy.

“Shiala.” There was no fumbling over the syllables now, not like there used to be.

She sat down on the end of the bed and Liara moved closer on pajama-clad knees, datapad still in hand. “Where’s your mother?”

“The bathroom.” Liara pointed to the far door, which was closed. “Already brushed my teeth.”

“That’s good.” Shiala managed a small smile of her own, noting the stack of clothes carefully folded on top of Benezia’s dresser. “How about getting dressed?”

That provoked a frown as the younger asari clutched the datapad closer. “I want to read.”

“I’ll read to you after you get dressed.” She held out her hand for the device. “Come on, little one.”

“ _Wing_.” Liara corrected insistently, although the datapad was reluctantly surrendered. “Mom says little wing.”

“That she does.” Shiala admitted, glancing down at the small screen. It was a book of asari legends, the page Liara had left off on illustrating the beauty of Pania’s music with a golden harp. It played a few soft notes when fingers brushed across the datapad, the text beneath telling of how the hero’s artistry had swayed Athame’s heart and earned the goddess’ blessing.

Despite Liara’s best attempts, Shiala had to help tug on a long-sleeved shirt when it got caught on the younger asari’s crest. They settled back on the edge of the bed, with Liara nearly in her lap to see the screen. It wasn’t the first time she had read aloud to keep Liara occupied for Benezia, although she still wasn’t used to the small hands that clung to her leathers, nor the chance that she’d look down and have a child asleep in her lap.

She traced the words with her fingers so Liara could follow along, pausing whenever there was a stumble or hesitation. Pania’s epic was just winding to a close when Benezia emerged from the bathroom, fastening a necklace heavy with yellow stones. Shiala set the datapad aside after turning off the screen, swallowing down a breath when her pulse quickened in her throat. A day of leave was most certainly in order.

“Good morning.” The matriarch smiled before approaching to pick up Liara, who happily wrapped both arms around her mother’s shoulders. “I thought we could start in the study after breakfast. I’ve had enough insistent offers that some of them need to be filtered out.”

If Shiala had her way, Benezia wouldn’t ever be in an arena with a thousand other asari again, but that would make the older asari’s work impossible. She would simply have to suss out the scenarios with the least risk, assassins or not.

“Of course, auma.” She stood up straight, giving a slight bow of her head. “I’ve already eaten, but I can start going over the offers if you like."

“Join us anyway.” Benezia glanced down at Liara, who was toying with the jewels set in the matriarch’s necklace, fascinated by the color. “I hate to burden the chef with the responsibility of a conversation as well as a meal.”

It was simple enough to refuse, fumble through an excuse, but it wasn’t Benezia’s fault that she was...inordinately distracted. Being rude wouldn’t help the issue either; she would just keep her eyes elsewhere while they ate.

“Of course.”

As it fell out, there wasn’t much of a conversation at all when most of Benezia’s attention was on keeping Liara from spilling a bowl of cereal, but the quiet, somewhat tired smile the matriarch offered her way weighed on her thoughts even more than their scattered small talk. Shiala knew she had to exist in the older asari’s space, that distance meant risk, but she wanted nothing more to apologize and excuse herself until this strange haze was just a memory.

When the acolytes and other commandos began to trickle in, it was easier, alleviating her obligation to continue speaking. Farizah took the empty seat at Benezia’s left while cradling a cup of coffee, immediately drawing the matriarch into a discussion about the coming holidays. Janiris, the spring festival, was approaching in a week or so, if Shiala recalled correctly. She had never paid a great deal of attention to it; Athame could place her blessings of fertility on someone else, not to mention the hangovers that came with the glasses of fortified temple wine passed around like water.

Once Musahir finished off her plate, the red-marked matron took custody of Liara, who wanted to play out in the garden. Shiala followed Benezia’s gaze as the two of them left, noting the familiar flicker of anxiety. The matriarch never liked to be far from her daughter unless it was absolutely necessary, but Liara’s presence was a distraction, and some topics weren’t meant for a child’s ears.

“The detective I mentioned to you,” she began, catching Benezia’s attention, “Lieutenant Sekas. I wanted to have her brought down for an interview. We spoke this morning.”

The matriarch nodded. “Forward the expenses to me when they’re tallied so there’s a record.”

“I will.” Shiala said, moving to stand. “Shall we?”

“Would it was for something more interesting than a schedule.” Benezia remarked lightly. “But I have missed being able to give speeches.”

Shiala couldn’t fathom the allure, but she gave a soft murmur of approval before following the matriarch out of the dining room. A pair of large chairs awaited them in the study, the table placed between them integrated with a holographic display. Benezia turned the screen on with a few soft taps, using her omnitool to sync it with the relevant files as Shiala took a seat. A few days of the schedule were already marked off for later preparations, but most of it was blank; catching everything up was going to be a logistical nightmare.

“Let’s start with who you can’t refuse.” Shiala said, although the older asari wasn’t a fan of categorizing engagements as such. Benezia thought - and rightly so - all of her work was important, but there were only so many hours of the day, and some organizations could bear the weight of her absence more than others.

By the time they had worked through more than half the list, Shiala noticed that the following weekend had been kept empty, despite being surrounded by twelve or fourteen hour days. Some were even worse, pressing on sixteen once travel was accounted for, but Benezia had been dragging events around on the screen with precision, placing them everywhere but that empty block.

“Is there something happening here?” Shiala gestured to the relevant corner of the schedule. “Or are you taking leave?”

“No, those days are here.” Benezia tapped the screen, highlighting a few blocks in purple. “The First Temple of Serrice asked me to give the opening speech at their private Janiris celebration. I’ll need at least a day for any last minute preparations, then the event, and there won’t be an asari on Thessia who wants an early breakfast meeting after the festival. I may as well set some recovery time aside for myself.”

The matriarch’s gaze centered on her. “I realize you haven’t gone with me in the past. I apologize for having to monopolize the holiday.”

Shiala shook her head. “I never did very much when you and-” she caught herself on Aethyta’s name, swallowing it back down, “-when you celebrated. It was easier to stay sober so everyone else could nurse a headache without any worry in the morning.”

“I think only one ritual glass is required at the celebration.” Benezia smiled a little. “I just don’t want to impose personally. Although I know you’d be attending as my bodyguard, assumptions to tend to be made about companions on Janiris. When...Aethyta attended with me, it was a different matter.”

Shiala couldn’t remember how long it had been since she’d heard Benezia say the older matriarch’s name; it was rare, fading to obscurity entirely now that Liara was of an age to repeat what she was told. The acolytes, the commandos, everyone knew to avoid it as well, not willing to risk the ire that would rise if they were overheard.

To think in Aethyta’s absence, she could be mistaken as Benezia’s--Shiala halted the thought immediately, hoping the flush of embarrassment wasn’t visible. The heat beneath her skin was the only reminder she needed to make her request; she needed a day of space before her actions could be misconstrued.

“I have no bondmate to be made jealous by the presumption, auma.” Shiala felt her mouth lock into a careful smile. “Although I would like to take some leave before the festivities if it’s possible.”

Reaching over to the screen, her fingers centered on the day after next. “You noted you would be working on speeches at home here, so I could leave Musahir in my place without having to split the guard between you and Liara."

“Do you only want a day?” Benezia asked. “I don’t keep track of vacation for most of the unit since they ask for it so rarely, but in any proper organization, you would have weeks of leave banked, if not more.”

Shiala’s lips pursed. The days on either side were occupied from dawn to dusk, and Benezia would spend most of it out of the house. Her trust for Musahir didn’t give the other commando a second set of eyes, and having to take Liara along to idle in a hotel or skycar was an unnecessary complication. A day would be enough; it always had been in the past. The last time she’d had a weekend to herself was as a commando, and without any desire to drink, it was spent in the gym. She’d broken a personal lifting record, at least.

“A day is fine. It’s no inconvenience to you, is it?”

Benezia smiled. “Not at all.”

Shiala tapped the screen, highlighting the date in purple like the others. “I’ll let Musa know when we’re finished.”

It was approaching midday by the time the schedule was filled for the coming year, with a touch of flexibility for emergency engagements. Benezia had eventually fetched a datapad for Shiala to keep track of the locations to be researched and every hotel that had to be inspected. Plenty of them had the matriarch’s patronage in the past, but the needs of security changed every day, and some companies went lax in the interim without a good push.

Farizah came into the study as Shiala was shutting down the screen, the priestess supporting a dozing Liara in her arms. Grass stains dappled the younger asari’s clothes, dirt firmly embedded in the soles of tiny shoes.

“Lunch is ready.” Farizah said, carefully passing Liara over into Benezia’s embrace. There was a soft murmur of protest, but nothing more. “Is a lesson still planned for afterwards?”

The matriarch nodded. “Once that’s over, you and I can go over the schedule for the next several months. If there’s anything crucial I’ve missed, I would like to know sooner rather than later.”

“Several more months?” Farizah’s tone was light, nearly a tease. “So I’ve yet to be banished to my own household in the coming year?”

“You could have your own acolytes, Farizah. Your own temple, if you wished it.” Benezia sighed. “But I would never wish you gone from my house. It will be a loss whenever the time comes."

The solemn weight behind those words chased the bright spark from the priestess’ eyes. Farizah had already been a cherished student by the time Shiala came into the household, known for a fierce intelligence and willingness to play contrarian to Benezia’s central teachings. Their debates were something to behold, as were the moments shared later over wine and a datapad being passed back and forth. Shiala didn’t consider herself as more than an acquaintance to the eldest acolyte, as they rarely spoke in regard to anything but security and logistics, but she understood the bonds of respect and loyalty shared between them.

She was about to excuse herself, allowing Benezia a moment of privacy, but the matriarch’s hand suddenly brushed her shoulder, snapping her attention back. The warmth of the older asari’s palm radiated through her leathers, lingering like a brand when the touch withdrew.

“When we see the tailor later this week, you’ll have to be fitted for something as well.” Benezia’s words were tinged with an apology. “Being dressed as my bodyguard unfortunately negates the intended purpose.”

Would it that she could speak, summon more than a slight bow of her head. Shiala shook the haze off her thoughts, staying silent until the matriarch’s focus returned to Farizah, who was moving to lead them out of the study and back to the dining room. The chatter over lunch would disguise the source of her disquiet; no one, even Benezia, expected her to contribute to the daily gossip and dramas, which was a mercy. She followed automatically, finding her seat without a second thought.

Aethyta’s voice pushed past the static in her head as the food was served, wrapped up in a memory inside a hotel room in Armali. The older matriarch had broken two fingers wrestling a gun out of someone’s hands; both of the digits had been quickly wrapped, the bones set, but stark violet bruises still decorated Aethyta’s arms from the assailant’s rough grip. There were no complaints, as Shiala knew both of them had suffered worse in a hundred different ways, but Benezia had retreated to the bathroom close to tears, fraught with guilt at her bondmate’s injury.

_“It’s worse for her than the others.” Aethyta said, gesturing to the closed door._

_Shiala frowned. “How so?”_

_“You guard anyone, end up saving their life, they end up feeling like they’re in your debt. Even if it’s your job, just a paycheck.” The older matriarch raised her wrist, emphasizing the bracelet there. “She feels that...and everything else. When I get hurt, it tears her up.”_

_“We could always switch places.” Shiala said. “I can take lockdown if you handle evac.”_

_“You know there’s no way to plan which one of us is closer to the asshole waving a gun around.” Aethyta grunted. “Wasn’t my point, anyway.”_

_“Sorry.”_

_“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Aethyta hissed through her teeth. “Just trying to say that no one tells you it works the other way around too._

_“What do you mean?” Shiala asked._

_“You protect someone, you put yourself in front of that bullet, the first time’s automatic. You’re trained for that moment. But if you do it again and again, it’ll become a drive, because you care and can’t stand the thought of them not being safe. Gets past your guard like nothing else can.”_

_The bathroom door was still closed, the sound of the shower muting their conversation even if Benezia chose try and to listen. Shiala sat up straight, gaze level with Aethyta’s. Ten years in the matriarch’s service had taught her a great deal, but this was the first time anyone had tried to give her emotional advice._

_“Is that a warning?”_

_Aethyta’s laugh was a low rumble. “I think you’ll be fine. Got a better head on your shoulders than I did at your age. Hell, better than I do now.”_

_“But you don’t regret it.” Shiala said, brow knitting. “Bonding with her, I mean.”_

_“It’s one of the only things I’ve done right.” Aethyta’s knuckles rapped her shoulder. “You can forget I said anything. I just wanted someone to hear it and Nezzy would tear up if I said it to her, you know?”_

_Shiala managed a smile. “Right.”_

“Shiala?"

She blinked, turning her head toward the direction of the voice. Benezia’s mouth was a tight moue of concern, although some of it faded when their eyes met.

“Yes?” Shiala asked.

“I just wanted to make sure you were alright.” The matriarch’s shoulders relaxed by a few centimeters. “You looked worried about something.”

“No.” She took a breath, ignoring Farizah’s barely veiled curiosity from across the table. “I’m just fine.”


End file.
